


Too much like falling

by Francium



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: AU, Bullying, Cute, Happy Ending, High School, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mercenaries, Only at the very beginning, Vulgar Language, canon character death, kind of, kinda depressing at points, pre-cancer!wade, the avengers aren't big characters, they're more referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francium/pseuds/Francium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>'I can't lose you, Wade,' Peter turned his head this time, 'and whenever you go out, I feel like you're not gonna come back.' </i><br/> </p><p>Wade and Peter find themselves in a whirlwind relationship after Wade helps him out of a fight. The problem with those is they fall hard and fast, but think they're flying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Photograph

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All the people who supported it](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+the+people+who+supported+it).



> So, my first ever spidypool fic! Whoop whoop, I guess? Honestly the first chapter is breezed through because I have so many chapter ideas and plot plans that I just want to get this out of the way. Rating might go up, so keep an eye out for that. But more than anything, enjoy! I know I will!  
> Edit: I rose the rating just to be sure, but the only explicit stuff is the swearing tbh

Sometimes he disappeared and there wasn't a man alive who could trace him. The school often tried, although with no known relatives it was a fruitless endeavour. Sometimes he reappeared and there was one man alive who wanted him. Somehow, despite all of the infrequent appearances, he never once expected to be abandoned. Wade crashed into his life and carried on in a similar fashion, a much needed consistency. After all, everyone wanted someone they could fall onto. The problem was shattering on impact. 

"On your knees, faggot," something smacked Peter hard in the jaw and he stumbled backwards;one step, two, before he keeled over. A shattered piece of his camera crunched beneath blemished sneakers and blood trickled down from a ring-cut. Ben was gonna kill him, he just knew it. Could be worse. Could be somebody else's blood.  
Several familiar faces stood leering at him, which he twisted to see only for his line of sight to be obscured by quickly moving denim. His lip split this time. He spat what trickled between his lips.  
A new figure pushed out from the hubbub of spectators and Peter recognised him instantly; Wade Wilson. The biggest fucking rebel in the entire school, of course he would play a part in this. It was always the cute ones who were arseholes. Wade had actually volunteered as a model for photography, the only male who wasn't getting any. Everyone figured he'd planned to. Peter didn't have a chance at photographing him.  
"Hey there, baby," The blonde quirked an eyebrow before turning sharply towards Flash Gordon, "You know, you can't go around calling someone else a fag when you're trying to get him closer to your dick, although you really need to get it right cause from what I can see, your dick is definitely here."  
Wade Wilson, Peter learnt, had three very important aspects: Attractive features, a quick tongue and one hell of a right hook. Flash might not appreciate these, but he sure as hell learnt the last one and fast.  
"Alright, I know its hard not to stare cause I'm just that fricken smoking, but this ain't a rodeo. Pick up your pet and skedaddle," He gestured unhappily towards Flash, who was swimming towards consciousness, nose bloodied and lolling face-down into the concrete. The group disbanded, lugging him along with them.  
"Need a hand, gorgeous?" Wade was directing this at Peter, who had pulled himself up at the sight of a passed out flash and was trying to collect the remainders of his camera. The bastard thing was barely functioning anyway, it wasn't much of a loss.  
"You know, if you need a new one, I can buy it for you."  
Peter scrutinised Wade but still said nothing, just stared. For the first time, he was speechless. Well then.  
"You know, I'm starting to get the feeling you don't want to talk to me," the man -boy? Guy? - pouted mockingly, collecting the lens and tucking something underneath carefully before handing it over.  
"I'd be more inclined to if i could get a word in edgeways."  
"Pretty and witty," was the grinning response, "You'll be the death of me, Parker."  
"How'd you know my name?"  
Wade smirked and picked up the final piece of plastic, turning it over to show a single letter in silver writing, "You can write and I can read. I saw them as you were picking it all up - you know your meant to put it on your underwear right? Or do you do that as well?"  
"Wouldn't you like to know."  
"Sure thing, although of course seeing is believing..." Wade trailed off, all shit eating smugness wrapped in an oversized red hoodie. Peter hated him. He loved it.  
"Thanks for the swooping rescue," Peter smiled lightly, "although unless you want to be kicked out I'd recommend breaking some phones, I'm pretty sure people recorded you."  
"Aw, you're worried about me," Wade grinned and shoved him, playfully, "love you too little guy."  
With that he practically skipped away, slinking into the crowd with practiced ease. Peter unfolded a piece of paper from under the camera lens, adding the number to his contacts instantly. 

 

'Hey,'  
'What do you think about the fluctuating levels of dystopian teen fiction?'  
'Yay to the guys who can actually get published?'  
'No but like doesn't anyone have any other ideas?'  
Peter blinked up at the ceiling, one hand lazily throwing a rubics cube up and down, up and down... It was becoming hypnotic.  
'It sells.'  
'It sucks'  
'You are such a baby, you know that?'  
'Yeah, but at least I'm yours, baby! Haha!'  
Peter rested the phone on his forehead and huffed affectionately, 'What makes you think I'm yours?'  
'Does it matter? If not, you have one charming, gorgeous and utterly humble man servant doting on you.'  
'Oh really? And who might that be?'  
'Ouch,' Wade was laughing now, disguise it though he might. He slowed his breathing to cover up and for the smallest time, it was too much.  
'I'm gonna take that internship at Oscorp,' Peter announced, working the inside of his lip.  
'Sounds fun. What do they even do there?'  
'Science and innovation, mostly. Its pretty technical stuff, not your sort of thing.'  
'I am very into science, thank you! Right now I'm working on my evil plan for world domination using lizards and rats.'  
Peter grinned, rubbing his head lightly before stopping,'When I'm finished with my interview for it, do you wanna, I dunno. I mean if you're cool then-'  
'Yes I will frolic into the sunset with you.'  
'Wade, I'm being serious.'  
'So was I. You better get me a haribo ring, I make for a classy groom.'  
'Only if you say yes.'  
'Yes.'  
Parker felt himself grinning. Yeah sure, Wade was an arsehole, but hell he was worth it. Of course, they probably wouldn't work out. Hell, it could all end tomorrow in hell fire. Peter just somehow new that it was worth giving a shot, despite the odds. Because of the odds.  
'Text when you're free?'  
'Of course. See ya, honey.'  
The line went dead. Peter went running, trying to shake off the excess excitement. It didn't work.

Peter Parker was instantly recruited, despite his young age, and managed to screw up three times in one small hour of work. The first was accidentally knocking into a visiting billionaire - he didn't stop to see who, but the metal like bump of chest was something of a give away.  
The second was the fact that it had taken an hour, rather than half, and he'd had to text Wade to either postpone or cancel their.... Thing. Apparently, Wade took that sort of stuff well. Coffee was at 5 instead, but he was paying.  
The third and most tremendous cock up was successfully breaking into a top secret room, only to be bitten by a radioactive spider, because wasn't that just his luck.


	2. Numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some firsts, some lasts. Nothing lasts forever

Wade had not yet convinced the several waitresses that _yes his date would be there_ and _no he hadn't been stood up_. They were ye of little faith, although they were also paying for his drinks, meaning he couldn't really complain. And of course, the ambiance was good. The little cafe was a miss-match of dark woods and off-red, strangely quirky, the workers all dressed up in matching dark aprons and white shirts. Man, those must be terrible if something spills on them like they are never getting that out. Bless.

So, he amused himself by spamming Peters inbox while he waited, starting with, 'I aint a ditchable dat hw dare u' spanning to, 'so kangaroos hv 3 v's'  
Peters reply was rushed, and yet still somehow irritant, 'jst off traiin b 3 min'.  
Wade smiled lightly and showed it to one of the passing workers, who nodded unconvincingly before silently topping up his drink. Pity was a powerful thing. Deciding not to antagonise someone he was actually trying to appear likeable to - a challenge, but hey - he elected to play flappy birds. It was a good patients test, at least.

When Peter eventually arrived, expression tight with his face flushed red, and lingered in the doorway for a second. The outfit choice was so hipster it was almost laughable, black skinneys and an outdated meme. Maybe, without the black benie and glasses, it would have been passable. Wade felt his chest flutter and nope fuck that outfit was cute as hell.  
'Hey there baby,' Wade grinned, gesturing towards a seat that Peter took gratefully.  
'I have never heard of this place before,' he eyed the establishment, the waiters, the other costumers... Everyone and thing bar Wade. 

'You've been missing out. Let me go order you somethin. You drink coffee?' 

'As weak as they make it.'

'One glass of dirty milk water, got it,' Came the reply and Wade went off to the counter, gesturing at the nearest waiter with much enthusiasm. Poor bastard. Peter took the time to feel against the back of his neck, touching uncertainly a welt of sore flesh and tugged. Something like fine hair came out in his grasp. It was probably that stupid bite, but jeez he'd never heard of anyone experiencing that. And his senses were haywire, too. He was so fried that even McDonalds wouldn't serve him. 

'One cup of crap is on its way,' was Wades elegantly put return statement, 'hey, Earth to major Parker, come in?'

'Sorry,' Peter rubbed his forehead, flinching slightly as a hand pressed on his shoulder, 'Just work. I screwed up so many times, and I really need the money...'

'If you ever need cash, you know you could ask, right?' There was a moment of intimacy there, almost tangible. A certain honesty fluttered through blue eyes, seconds before, 'I could be your sugar daddy!'

And it was gone. 

Peter huffed, 'thanks, but we'll be alright.'  
The talk lightened from there, and when all was drunk and paid for, Wade took Peter to his aunty and uncle. The house was under much scrutiny from Wade, who constantly hinted at having a large income and was no doubt judging their living conditions. At least, skulking around the doorsteps absent-mindedly, he made no comments. The walk there had been pleasant and fun, but now the situation seemed to settle on their shoulders and all conversation dropped.

So, there was the awkward, 'we just had our first date and I've dropped you home now what' vibe clinging to each of them  
'You could come in. I mean. If you wanted to,' Peter gestured to the door, but Wade shook his head.

'I don't do family, man. Not yet. Thanks. Though. Text me when you want to do this again? If you want to, naturally. I mean I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but I'd like to if you're up for that...Maybe?'  
The usual bravado in his voice was gone, because somehow this moment was real. There they were, with coffee lingering in their lips, standing way too close and somehow too far. 

A call from inside the house. Still, neither moved. It was magic, they were enchanted, stuck on the steps, barely able to blink.

'Yeah, I'll text you.' Peter smiled, before... Maybe... Fuck it. He leaned the small distance and pressed his lips against Wades. Not much, hardly a kiss, but he could feel the grin against his mouth and a small laugh bubbled up in his throat. 

'See you, Wilson.'

'Until next time, Parker.'

And with that Peter disappeared, leaving Wade stunned and grinning on streets. 

Three minuets later, down the road, a text came through. Wrong ringtone, wrong phone. The message came from a (un)known number, reading,

'P@3 h98s5, t@rg5t Mr m?ll5r. K?ll 9n s?ght, d5@dp99l'

Wade, unlike many others, understood. He wished he didn't. 

...

'Its not that we mind he's a man,' she elaborated again. Peter was glaring daggers into the floor boards, his fingers tapping on the counter in irritance. They were not having this talk. They so, so were not serious. 

'Its that he's a bad influence,' Ben nodded grimly, eyes trained on a cupboard rather than their nephew. It made the conversation easier, somehow. 

'Look, we love you very much, and we want you to be happy, but he's...'

'Reckless.'

'Dangerous'

The two were exchanging looks uncertainly.

'That fight at school, he was involved in that.'

'Fight,' Peter mimicked, 'You mean me getting kicked into the ground, and him being there and pulling me out?'

Again were those glances. Screw it. Screw them. Without another word, Peter pushed past and out the door, slamming it as he left. The glass shattered. He didn't apologise. Another what if.

Two gunshots rang, in two different parts of New York. Think about killing someone. Wade did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wades code replaces the vowels with symbols. Try and work out what the text says? Note that the word target and miller are in there, then give it a shot. If someone manages I'll love them forever


	3. Gun Powder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Mama, just killed a man, put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead' - Queen

Wade was uncomfortably aware of the gun powder resting on his skin. Even though it was but small particles, he could feel it burning. It felt like guilt. 

'And just think, those are the hands you use to hold him,' oh yes. That was scorn, spat out through grinded teeth. Domino tapped lightly on the floorboards, watching out his window. Somehow, they were looking at different worlds amongst the chartered streets. Wade wasn't certain why he felt different, he'd killed plenty of people before. Maybe it was because Domino was there. He'd never like Neeva, in all honesty. Maybe it was Peter. Maybe it was the victim, the family photos. Photos of his children. Wade scratched at his neck, sniffing lightly. It wasn't anything he liked to think about.

The building they were crouched in was a safe house, his sanctum sanctorum when home felt too domestic. He had plenty of old warehouses and such, but this. This was where he could go after a mission, when he was too stained. Wade was lolling back, gun still resting loosely in his grip, staring at the rain. Pathetic fallacy, he mused, watching it constantly beat-beat-beat

-beep.

He stopped, tossed the weapon away and grabbed his phone, flipping the bird to Domino as he did, 'hey ba-'

Silence on his end, as he scratched patterns into his trousers nervously. Bad news, really.  
'Hey, hey, shhh, slow down babe I can't understand a word. Okay, breath, you got it,' he threw a helpless look at the girl with him, then remembered who she was and scowled, 'okay, go home, I'll be there as soon as possible, okay? Just, just stay safe, okay? See you then."

Wade slammed the phone into his pocket and leapt up, shoving any evidence of Mr. Miller under the floorboards before storming out.

'Trouble in paradise?' Came the cool levelled questions. He hated working with her. Fuck his last employer, he wasn't doing shit for Pau house again. Or Pay house. Maybe it was some kind of shitty pun, giving the big boss man was Mr. Pau. It would be interesting if Wilson actually cared.

Peter had just finished talking to the police when an uncertain Wade was escorted in. Wade, that smug jackass, secrets wrapped in secrets wrapped in chimichangas. The knight in shining red. He took one look at the sketch artist drawing, at the evidence spilling out across the table like blood on the pavement, and walked straight past it to hold Peter. 

'Hey there, Parker,' he stroked over the mop of brown hair, feeling a face nuzzle into his neck, 'I gotcha'. 

'It was my fault,' Peters nails dug into the fabric of his jumper. Huge, overbearingly bright, soft enough to feel like home, 'I talked to the bastard who did it. I saw him walk right off, I didn't know, I-'

'Look,' Wade held him at arms length, 'You are not responsible for another person being a shitbag, okay? You didn't pull the trigger, you didn't kill anyone. So don't go blaming yourself, okay babe?'  
Wade tried not to swallow too hard. He tried to ignore guilt. It burnt like gun powder against his skin. 

Peter stood, lip quivering, but nodded slowly. He practically leaned into every touch. 

For the next few days, Wade stayed with them, first pulling in blankets to huddle on the floor of Peters room, then sharing a bed with Peter himself.  
It helped the nightmares on both ends. When morning came, neither of them commented, no matter what they heard in the night. 

'Good morning,' Wade smiled. He'd fried up a rather large breakfast for all of them, as more of a comfort than anything else. Aunt May was sitting across the table, favouring him strangely.

'This's a lot,' she frowned.

'Full English,' Wade shrugged, 'bought the stuff myself, don't worry.'

'That's not... Its just a lot of effort, that's all, and I really hope you don't feel like you do have to do this for us...' She trailed off just as Peter came downstairs, interrupting their little gathering. He had been different, recently. More active, faster, heightened reflexes... Or maybe that was just Peter, and he hadn't seen enough to know that. 

'Bacon?' Wade gestured at the third plate along with his spatula, 'I was gonna make pancakes, but I always end up making too many.'

Peter took the plate tentatively, but flashed a smile in reply, 'Don't you have school today?'

'Depends, you going in?' 

'Well I am a student, and that is what I'm meant to do, so yeah.'

'Alright then, I'll go in.' Wade handed out food before sitting down carefully. He had a rather casual opinion of he education system, to put it lightly.

'You'll be late if you don't go now,' Peter warned, picking up the pace and eating a lot more than before. 

'I gotta motorbike, man, I'll be fine,' Wade stopped eating for a second to grin, 'You wanna catch a ride with me?'

No, peter decided as he tightened his grip around Wades middle, he did not want to be on that stupid machine, because he loved Wade dearly but god did he drive like a maniac. They fucking sped through the streets, the back weighing him backwards as Wade navigated between trucks and taxis. He just clung on the minuets-maybe-hours he was stuck there, silently praying he didn't loose his grip. Seeing the school loom ahead was something of a blessing. 

'Never again,' Peter huffed, flattening down his hair and handing the spare helmet back to Wade, shaking out the roar of engines.

'Oh yeah?' Wade quirked his eyebrow, looking the lids up in the storage on his bike, smiling, 'How are you getting home?'

Peter groaned mockingly before walking up the steps, Wade in close pursuit.

'Aw come on, Juliet, its not that bad, at least I stuck to the speed limits?'

'Oh so that makes everything okay then, does it Romeo?'

They weren't public. They weren't out as a couple, but Peter reached out and they walked into the corridor hand-in-hand. 

Peter expected to get shit. He did not expect the apology from Flash, to make friends with his fellow work colleague Gwen, or to forget his greif for a few hours. It was a preferable turn of events, of course, and he knew that pity had a large role to play, but still. The funeral was in a week time. He could keep going, Wade would make sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be the first to admit, I don't know a lot about Domino, which is why she makes the smallest appearance. Also, good job to all you lot who cracked the code! Not that it was that difficult, but hey.


	4. Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like escapism. Running, fighting, putting on a costume to make it all okay.

Wade stayed with them to and passed the funeral, which he attended almost cautiously. As soon as he had returned to his own apartment, Peter invested any and all spare time into costume designing. Whether Wade would be supportive of his endeavour or not didn't really matter, the point was it was safer for him not to know. Development took many weeks of practice and he nearly gave up on several occasions.

At first the idea to utilise his new found... 'abilities' had been driven by revenge, but his uncles killer had turned up in a ditch with a bullet through his head so there was little point in pursuing him. The news of the murdered murderer made him feel... Hollow. Did a person ever deserve to die?  
He'd asked Wade that, once, who replied in a pensive and rough voice, 'depends on the person.'

No, Peter doubted that, but he shrugged it off anyway. The police had asked him questions, including several relating to the recent assassination of Edward Miller. Kill styles must have been similar, either that or they were desperate. One way or another, he hadn't any information to give them.

Peter had come to the conclusion as he bundled up the spandex from his latest failure that he wasn't trying to become a hero, he just didn't want anyone to die. 

It was on that night he managed to create the first Spiderman suit, finishing on the wrong side of midnight and practically falling into bed, oh sweet haven of cushions and softne-

His phone was going off. Why. 

Peter hit the screen and practically smushed the phone to his face, mumbling unintelligently, trying not to squint at the new found light pressed up against him. 

'Hey Parker,'  
'The hell Waaade?'  
'I can't explain it, but I'm going away for a while. Don't miss me too much, honey, but it might be a month or so.'  
'And you chose now to tell me?' Peter yawned loudly, snuggling his free side further into the covers.   
'How long have we been a thing?'  
'Months.' Peter smiled loosely, slight and honest.   
'Its too early to say half the things that are true,' Wade huffed, and Peter could imagine the awkward hair-stroke that accompanied it, 'what I'm off to go do is dangerous, okay? But it's worth it. I'll think of you when I'm gone.'  
'I miss you already,' Peter hummed, fighting a losing battle to stay awake.   
'Goodnight, babe.'

Peter woke up alone. It hadn't occurred to him to ask Wade where he was going, or to wish him safety. Hopefully, that was forgivable. 

The first fight Spiderman had was strenuous. He'd caught petty thieves and mobsters, but none had retorted with as much violence as... Whoever the hell it was. Some big shot gang leader, he assumed, who was packing guns in practically every place he could fit them. Peter ran his mouth as he went, his own witty commentary, to the point that in between gunshots the villain had shouted, 'Are you trying to talk me to death?'

'Well, it would save me a lot of time, stuff to do and all that,' Peter used the (mostly) self-designed webs (thanks, oscorp) to grab the machine gun, which he full-circled to smack the man had in the head with the muzzle.   
He went done after a swift kick to the stomach, but not before landing a couple of hard smacks himself. 

Spiderman was sure to tie him up in an undignified position before clambering away. After all, the police didn't exactly like him, for one reason or another. Probably just upset he made them look useless.

'Look at you,' His aunt was cleaning the cut on his eyebrow unhappily. Fallen off his skateboard, he'd said. She just looked grimly, 'and where was Wade when you needed him.'

There was more disappointment than dislike, but it still pricked a nerve, 'There. Every single time, he was there.'

May gave a small nod, putting a plaster across his nose, 'You know, I told Ben when he got you that damn thing that this would happen. I mean honestly, just look at the state of you.'

He smiled goofily, happy to have all his teeth above anything else. 

'Now, you go and get cleaned up. I'm making stew.'

Just as Peter washed the residue of blood and dirt off his face, Wade was as well. The difference there was that it wasn't Wades blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my GCSEs right now so this will be my last update for a month or so most likely. Sorry :(


	5. Starry night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Do you remember when we drove, drove through the night? And we danced, we danced...' - Fall Out Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they totally frick a frack, but its not detailed in any way so I think the rating is still okay?

It was exactly a month after his departure when Wade returned, looking worse for ware then ever. He had felt it necessary to hop through the window and was sitting on the sill, grinning, naught but moonlight casting his silhouette.  
'Holy Jesus fuck balls,' Peter spat, elegant as ever, as he faceplanted onto the carpet.

'Language,' Wade mocked, swinging his legs slightly, 'Hey, I was thinking, we should go out of the city. Like, tonight. Right now.'

'Its fucking midnight what the hell,'Peter flicked on his bedside lamp and shone it at the smug asshole. With this much light, Peter could see cuts and bruises marring his features, 'The hell have you been, anyway? You look like shit, by the way.'  
'Answering in reverse order, 1. Ouch, I am a precious flower how dare you.'

'Precious flowers don't show up at midnight by peoples windows you prick,' Peter hauled himself out of bed, breaching the distance between them and kissing Wade lightly. Wade grabbed his hair and pushed him closer, humming slightly, and wow he was warm.  
'Do you even want an answer?' Wade smiled, not even bothering to pull back properly as he spoke, the words hot on Peters skin.

'Later,' was the small reply, and then Peter moved his head away, stroking Wades face. 

'Parker, you trust me, right?'

'Enough, why?'

'Come out with me? I promise you won't get stabbed or anything.'

New York was often referred to as the city that never slept. On lucky searches, you could get food out till 3am, the city lights never-ending. Peter thought people up then were either crazy or desperate. He had a pretty good guess at which Wade was. 

'I hate you, let me get changed first.'

'Sweet. You want me to turn around or do I get a show? I mean not that I can see shit in this light anyway, so it doesn't make much of a difference.'

'Do what you want,' Peter smiled - no, smirked. He'd been spending way to much time with Wade, but oh god was he addictive. 

Peter actually didn't undress fully, just pulled some jeans over his boxers and trade the scrappy shirt some something green and relatively fresh smelling.  
Wade had stepped into his room, and made a sweeping gesture towards the window. Peter nodded, flicked off his lamp, and it was only after clambering outside and padding across the garden barefoot (oops) he realised how mad a plan this was. It was a Tuesday night - or even, Wednesday morning - and there they were, hopping into Wade's very expensive looking car and speeding away.

'Aunt May is gonna kill me,' he whined, putting his head back and closing his eyes. A hand rested on his knee and he tried to repress the smile hovering on his lips. 

'Aunt May is never gonna know you're gone,' Wade smiled, speeding up on a straight stretch of bridge which took then out the suburbs and out the city. Most of what came next was dead land, dead space of nothing fresh, stretching out, interrupted by house lights in random directions. They must have been driving for hours, till the city's had all shrunk away and ahead of them was clear.  
Wade took several turns along the way. This was a route he frequented. 

They pulled up on a stretch of nature and slowly the roof peeled open - convertible, because apparently that's the sort of thing Wade has - to reveal stars. Some sort of sweeping romantic gestures or maybe an absents apology. It was very beautiful. 

'Come on sleepy head,' Wade got out then and walked around, practically sweeping Peter up and carrying him to the hood of his car, where they both sat, staring. 

'I missed you, you know,' Wade spoke quietly, as if the whole universe would rumble at the slightest sound. It felt as if it would. 

Peter felt fingers hold onto his own, nervously. Wade didn't do cute or sensible, so this... This was something else. Almost someone else and he couldn't but help turn and ask, 'What happened to you?' 

'I got hit,' Wade huffed. Peter had got up and was now in-between his legs. Their hands were still holding on to each other, resting on cool metal next to Wades thigh, 'I'm okay, don't worry babe.' 

'I don't worry. Its just you keep leaving your stuff round ny house, and selling it would be a bitch,' Peter retorted, kissing the lips so close to his own, chests pressed and nose bumping slightly on the way in. Peter moved to put his forehead against his boyfriends, his free hand gripping the back of his neck. Wade let go of Peters other hand in favour of cupping his ass instead, pulling him up so his knees were up on the car. 

'Shit, cold,' Peter shivered as the rip in his jean found bonnet. 

'Back seats?' 

'Hell yeah.' 

At that Wade picked Peter up, feeling legs wrap around his hips. He supported the smaller teen before depositing him in the back, only to stand up and get to the front. 

'Dude,' Peter muttered, but the roof moved back across the stars and heat flooded to him quickly. In fact, he only just realised how cold he was. It had become so much less important than soft lips and gentle touches that still ghosted across his nerves. 

Wade opened the door climbed inside, slamming it behind him. 

'Pfff, loud,' Peter laughed lightly, earning a flash of teeth.

'You've got no idea.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should stop and focus on my GCSES but I have so much inspiration to write right now and these cuties are killing me I just ...help please.


	6. Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor swift, the morning after and snap chat are all important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No but look at these fluffy dorks like wow

'Midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights.'

Peter heard singing through his not-sleep, body still humming pleasantly. He was glad that Wade had been gentle, because rather than pain he more felt aches in his back. It was one hell of a first, fucked into the back seat of some hella fancy car, and Jesus Christ was Wade good. Insanely so, he dared think. 

'Long drive, could end in burning flames or paradise,'

Drumming against the steering wheel and Peter felt endearment above anything else, 'definitely paradise.'

He practically hears Wades grin as they drove home. The inevitable walk of shame tomorrow would be worth it, if not for the awesome sex but for that moment, with him drifting to sleep while Wade sang the entire 1989 album to a tune in his head. Crazy, adorable mess. Peter loved it. 

They got back long after morning light had broken across the sky, and Peter hopped out the car, crossing over uncomfortably, more aware than ever of his bare feet, and felt Wade behind him, offering him a leg up. He nodded and was practically launched into his room, leaping into bed seconds before Aunt May knocked on his door.

'Peter? You alright? You should be up already.'

'Just up,' he called back, looking outside only to see fingers gripping on and a blonde mop of hair appear, to which he hissed, 'get down!'

Aunt May opened his door at that point, favouring him unhappily, beginning a speech about lateness or something.  
Wade had heaved himself further up, only to see the situation and hunch back down again. He hung there, clinging to the drain pipe running up the wall. 

'And sleeping with your window open, honestly! That's how thieves get in, you know.'

Sounds above Wades head and jeez was he glad he moved his fingers when the base of the window slammed down. He pulled himself up again, looking in to see the woman's retreating back. 

He raised a hand to tap the glass, and seconds later he was hauled into the room.

'Jesus, Wilson,' Peter was looking down at him, sprawled unceremoniously on the cream floor. 

'Hey Parker?' Wade stared up at the fan, circling lazily above him, 'Remind me to clean my car. Also, chuck some clothes over?'

Fabric smacked his face and he temporarily stared up into the sheet of red. It was his favourite jumper, the same one he'd worn when he fought Flash. It was the jumper. 

Peter wore it sometimes, too. He never bothered asking, either, he just picked it out of the select few clothes Wade had slipped into his draws. His closet was permanently locked, which was apparently because some of his fathers stuff was inside, and it was easier that way. Neither of them ever spoke about their actual parents, and when Wade thought about beer bottle cots and nests of needles, it was probably for the better.

When Wade finally peeled his upper half off the comfort that was the carpet, he saw Peter had already changed into black skinny's and a tacky band t-shirt, with another long sleave underneath. He was bend over, tying up his shoelaces.

'Dat ass,' Wade sing-songed, earning him a shove that put him straight back on the floor again.

'I don't know if you are aware, but I have to, y'know, go to school. Get a good education. That sort of thing.'

'Overrated. Besides, you already have a job, so its unnecessary as well.'

'More of an internship,' Peter was shoving books into his backpack, talking without looking,'Besides, I have no idea what you do but it can't be much since you never show up.'

'I model, obviously.'

'Never seen a model beat up on the job.'

Wade sat up properly, one knee up, arm resting on top, 'This is about me disappearing, isn't it?'

Peter hauled the bag onto his shoulder but hesitated and dropped it again, moving to kneel before him, 'Come on, Wade, I damn well saw you last night. You're covered in cuts and bruises and scars and I just...'

Peter stopped and shook his head, practically closing his eyes. Wade furrowed his brow, reaching up to pacify him, 'You just what?'

'I worry about you, you asshole.'

Wade smiled cupping his face and rubbing a thumb softly across his cheek, ' At least it shows you care.'

Peter wanted to stay there for longer, but school really couldn't be put off for much longer, so after a light kiss he hopped up and grabbed his stuff, 'Aunt May is heading to work in about half an hour, so feel free to let yourself out then. Text me later?'

'Of course,' Wade waved him off, sitting there until he heard the front door shut before getting up and exploring. Mostly it was generic miscellaneous objects - Rubik's cubes, little models, old childhood memories in the form of creations. The wall above his desk was covered in polaroid pictures, some random faces or city scapes. One of Wades favourites sat on the desk, a picture of them Peter had taken last night. Wade had flicked on the car light and they were lying on the back seats, worn out and grinning, shirtless. Wade had his arm around Peter, who was using one had to hold the camera while the other was in his hair. 

Wade made a note to ask for a copy of it, a printed version so that he could take it out on missions. Should it get ruined, he'd hate to damage the original. 

He rummaged through Peters draws, grabbing a fresh pair of boxers and too-short sweatpants to change into, when the door swung open and May was standing there, uncertainly. 

'Hello Miss Parker,' Wade blinked, uncomfortably aware of the fact that the trousers he was wearing where the ones he wore last night and oh god this was suddenly awkward.

'I heard a noise and thought Peter was still in,' she blinked slowly, clearly enjoying the encounter as much as him.

'No, he left.'

'Thank you,' she closed the door with perhaps too much haste, and he honestly didn't blame her. Before changing he grabbed his phone and snapchatted an awkward face to Peter, captioned,  
'When ur bfs keeper sees u in his room'.

Peter opened it at lunch, and replied with a zoomed in picture of Flash looking for the most part unamused, reading, 'when ur bf doesn't leave ur house'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had my English lit GCSE today, yay. ._. I find that writing this actually helps to de-stress, so I'm kinda glad I started this. Also, this has the most hits of anything I've ever posted, so thank all of you guys so much <3


	7. Osborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time passed, and some confessions along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay its kinda important to note that while its referenced, time has definitely passed here.

'What are you doing.' It was stated rather than questioned, a mix of exasperation and fondness. 7 months in, and their whirlwind relationship had settled somewhat to pure adoration. Of course, they both had quirks, like the last time Peter did his washing in Wades apartment he turned everything a strange shade of purple. Wade suspected his random disappearing was worse, but still. Not cool. It meant saying bye bye to his favourite boxers.

'I'm studying the wild Wilson in its natural habitat,' the camera lens replied, 'its a truly fascinating creature, although lacking somewhat in grace'

'I'm very graceful, watch,' he stuck his middle fingers up and danced on the floor, squirming as he did. Peter laughed and reached out with his boot, pushing Wade lightly before taking another picture. Peter thought Wades Spiderman hoodie was the funniest thing for some reason or another, and took a picture practically every time he wore it. Which was a lot.

'I gotta tell you something,' Wade sat up. He had been lying on the library floor while Peter 'studied' for his finals, but now he was sitting cross legged, head craned up, hand between his knees. Peter took one look at his face and his lips pressed into a thin line.

'You're going away again.' 

'Gotta job, should only take a few days, but you know, just in case.'

'You say that, and I still don't know what you do,' Peter pulled away emotionally, as he often did to show discontent, 'I mean, your apartment alone is stunning, so it must be something, but then you show up bloody, and two phones? Really?'

Wade looked up at Peter, who was staring transfixed at the text book, not looking at him when he spoke. Wade moved across the floor and rested his head against Peters thigh, 'I know, babe. I want to get out of it, that's the thing, cause I know you hate it, but I can't. It's just, it's not the sort of thing you walk out of.'

Peter absently put his hand in Wades hair before moving down, running over a thin scar behind Wades ear. Another reminder of his work.

'I can't lose you, Wade,' Peter turned his head this time, 'and whenever you go out, I feel like you're not gonna come back.'

'Aww, you know I always come for you.'

'I'm serious, Wilson.'

'Likewise, Parker,' Wade tried to smile, but with the tightness in his chest it was hard, 'you know I adore you.'

'Nope, you need to say more than that,' Peter was sounding more alive, although the tension was still present, 'You've wounded my pride.'

'You're my home, Petey,' Wade murmured, nuzzling closer, 'you know that? I adore you. I'll always come back, like a bad penny.'

'Whatever, at least Harry won't desert me,' Peter had loosened again, and was feigning annoyance.

'Wait, are you replacing me?' Wade got up and leant on the table instead, scrutinizing him, 'I can't believe it. You're replacing me for a wizard. And I was just starting to fall for you, now look. Who is the guy, anyway?'

Peter closed the book pointedly, 'Harry Osborne. We go way back, and he's finally coming home from boarding school. We're gonna hang out, cause he's actually around.'

'Ouch,' Wade frowned, 'at least say you like me better. Or that I'm hotter. Either work.' 

'Depends, did you say you were falling for me?' 

Wade turned his head, looking at some books on the opposite shelf as if they'd personally offended him. 

'Wade?'

'I'm not,' he said quickly in return, holding Peters hand, 'I'm not falling cause that shits already happened and you know what? Its too early to say it, but god I love you, Peter Parker.'

Peter only realised he was smiling when his cheeks started hurting and oh god he should say something right? Right. 'That's good, because I love you too, Wade Wilson.'

'Fuck yeah!'

'Language!' A passing library spat, making them both giggle because they were young and in love and sure Peter swung from webs and Wade killed people for a living, but they were such small details compared to everything else. 

When Wade left, he wrote out three separate letters, given that was as long as it should take for him to be gone, which Peter was to open when lonely. He smiled and kissed Wade, trying not to feel like they were saying goodbye all over again. 

The 'Dead-phone' - and wow did did he need to think of a cooler name for it - had received full details including pictures but excluding the targets name, which is why when he came face to mask with his target, he didn't recognise him. 

'Sweet gig you've got going for yourself, up here in this fancy smantzy building,' He gestured widely, waving his gun around with a flippancy only he could afford. 

The target had a nervous habit of rubbing his fingers across his palm. This was not going to be fun, they were the same age as Peter. Deadpool tried not to think about that, until a phone started buzzing from the table. 

Even at a distance, Wade could read 'Peter Parker' across the screen. Well fucking shit. 'Name,' he barked, 'Your name. Now.'

'Harry,' the kid replied and god fucking damn it, 'Harry Osborn.'

'And the guy on the phone, what's he got to do with this?'

The Osborn heir's features shifted, 'Nothing, so you damn well leave him out of this.'

Wade smiled behind the mask and holstered his gun, 'good answer. You are in so much shit, kid, so you should probably come with me if you want to live.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna go somewhere I promise. It all kinda leads up to a big thing later. Also, they used the L word. Dawww.  
> Also if anyone has some cool/punny suggestions for the 'dead-phone' then feel free to tell me!


	8. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a plan. Like, 12% of a plan, but its better than 11%.

'Safe-house,' Wade announced. He knocked Harry out back in the office and carried him around, bringing him to one of his several warehouses rather than back to his apartment. Not the easiest endeavour, but hey. Now he was staring uncertainly at the target, kicking himself for getting into that stupid situation. He kept the mask on, just to be safe. Harry was rubbing his head groggily, shaking it.

'A little warning would have been nice,' he bit, huddling on a crate. It was full of TNT. Wade decided Harry needed to know a lot of things, but that was certainly not one of them, 'I never got to pick up Peters call.'

'Ah, don't worry, I texted, said you were too busy to call. He wanted to tell you he found a hella expensive watch and was pretty sure it wasn't his.'

'You know, for a big scary killer, you sound pretty young,' The target was looking at him strangely, almost frowning. There was a tension in those features, a lack of trust above all else.

'Hey, don't use that word, it's so dramatic. I don't kill people, I 'un-alive' them. Also, I didn't kill you, which has put me down 40K thank-you-very-much, which i had wanted to use for an anniversary gift,' Wade pointed an accusing finger at Harrys chest, before miming a finger gun, 'And I can't exactly go out and tell the world that someone sent to kill you, cause I'd be exposing myself. Luckily, I'm not just good looking.' 

Wade stood and paced to the far side of the wall, picking up chalk and beginning to outline his ideas against the dark cerment. Sure they were five months off their anniversary, but it payed to be prepared. Peter deserved the world, so 40k was barely anything. 

'Why did you save me?' Harry asked hesitantly - clearly, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth unless necessary - rubbing a welt on the front of his hand uncomfortably. 

'I like to keep people guessing,' Wade shrugged, 'so are we gonna talk about that thing you're touching, cause you're just aggravating it. I would know.'

He hadn't even turned around, he had just known from seconds of observation the targets ticks. Harry had to admit, he was good, 'genetic disorder. You?'

'Hm?'

'You said about yourself then?'

Wade didn't turn around but put two free fingers between his neckline and mask, revealing a large tumour previously hidden. It was rubbed sore, possible by the costume but more likely a nervous habit, 'not sure what it is, honestly. Not exactly screaming healthy, is it? I want to go get it checked or something, cause its a little too close to my head for comfort, but I got a guy back home who I don't want to worry.'

Harry stood up and paced forward, figuring he owed the assassin at least some attention for sparing him. After all the research both he and his father had put into such diseases, he recognised the symptoms easily, 'skin cancer. Pretty strong, too, its been left to develop too long.'

'ah fuck,' Wade dropped his head to the wall, hitting it several times, repeating 'fuck' every time he made contact. He pulled back and yanked off the mask, going to slouch in a corner, head in hands, knees drawn up, 'read the plan'

Harry skimmed over what he could understand uncertainly, the handwriting alone was a mess, but then walked slowly over to where Deadpool was and wait a second was that, 'Wade?'

Wade looked up in confusion, fear bubbling in his throat. 

'Peter likes to brag on snap chat. He was telling me about you today, said you never spoke about your work. Guess I know why,' the smile was not mocking but sympathetic, if not a little awkward. 

'You can't tell him, I mean it.'

'Wasn't planning on it, I figure you do your thing, I do mine and then we never speak about any of this again.'

They shook hands, Harry pulling Wade up from the floor afterwards. The terrible genius of a plan involves staging a kidnapping video, which could be released to the internet and would blame the original contractor, as Deadpool required certain details (for payment collection, mostly). They had to call in a couple of favours, because apparently if you're going to pretend to have kidnapped someone, you have to do it right.

During the set up of ropes and chairs and a nice bloody backdrop, Harry stopped, 'Are you gonna do anything about your neck?'

'Probably,' Wade was shuffling around old boxes - sweeping the stage, he explained. 

'Are you going to tell Peter?'

'Probably not,' Wade picked up his phone and walked off, making several quick calls and returning, 'I got this mate of mine called Trevor, he's made some fake execution videos and stuff before. Course, he's in prison, but he had some good acting tips. Bob's gonna be here in like ten minuets, same as Domino, and then we can get this party started!'

'You better be damn good to Peter,' Harry warned.

'Good to him, not for him,' Wade gave a small, pitiful smile, 'He really got what the cat dragged him but hell if I don't love him.'

'That's good enough.'

'Yeah.'

The door caved in and two figures stepped towards them, guns held loosely, expressions grim. 

'Lets get this show on the road.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't actually like this chapter that much, but its kinda really important for the plot. So I hope yoi guys enjoy it, I'll try to have something better soon.


	9. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooh child, things are gonna get easier. Ooh child, things are gonna get brighter...

'You're leaving? What, so we just have to take the fall for you, is that it?'

'Come on, Dom. I can't risk it, and I don't want to shoot my way out either,' Wade had decided to announce his plan to bail after they'd released the video - it was trending on most social media sites -and as imaginable it was met with some resistance. 

'Whatever, but you owe us, Deadpool, you hear that?' Bob scowled, kicking himself for getting pulled into another shitty stunt, 'And big time.'

'Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll avoid shooting you in the foot for a while. It was nice knowing you Harry, I hope we meet on better terms next time,' He smiled, gathering his bits and pieces. Not much, since his mask was back on and he had all his guns holstered, but there were a couple of valuables scattered around which he grabbed along the way, 'Sorry someone tried to have you killed!'

Wade skipped out and headed straight to his apartment for a costume change before dropping to the Parker residence. There was not an overly large distance between their homes, and access to both was within his disposal. Furthermore, Peter was yet to complain about his irregular visiting hours, so whatever. He wasn't there to see Spiderman jump in heroically and rescue Harry, or for the police to drag several of the Oscorp council, accused of funding hitmen, out for interrogation. Be it a farcical plan, it was one that had worked to its best ability, besides the injury. He didn't see one of Bobs bullets graze Spidermans leg, but was at Peters house to witness the effect.

'Oh yeah honey I'm h- what the fuck why are you bleeding sit down hang on.'

Peter was glad he had the foresight to come in through the bathroom window and stash his costume, or that could have been a difficult situation to explain. He hadn't yet had the displeasure of his identity being discovered, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen. 

'Its not that bad, I just cut it.'

Wade mimicked the 'just', a large bowl of boiling water in one hand and other equipment such as bandages and towels in the other. Where it had all assembled from was a mystery in itself. He got Peter to sit on the bed, holding his leg out. First and foremost, Wade sterilized a needle in the water before dipping in the towel and wiping away the thick layers of blood that were forming. Given that it was still bleeding, he'd have to work pretty quickly. 

'I didn't know you did first aid,' Peter had gritted his teeth and was trying to find a distraction from the pain in his leg. Conversation seemed like the better of most options. 

'It helps when your boyfriend is a reckless idiot.'

'Guess I need to learn it, then.'

For the first time, Wade looked up, looking for something in Peters features. A trace of irony, maybe. It was a fierce gaze, whatever it meant. 

'I love you, Pete.'

'I could get used to you saying that,' Peter put his hand on Wades cheek and smiled, 'I love you too.'

Wade got to work on stitching up the cut instead of bandaging it while Peter made a concerned phone call to Harry. There was a certain shake Peter's hands, a white-grip to his knuckles as he used his cell, which indicated the feelings of pain. If Wade could take that all away, he would. Instead, stitching was the next best thing.

Whatever was being said on the phone was having a direct affect on Peter, to the point where he made a slight chocked back noise. 

'Okay, thank you. I'm glad your okay,' he disconnected and then stared straight at Wade, uncertainly. His eyes were watering, and there was the slightest tremor to his voice when he spoke, 'That was Harry. He, he said that he thought he'd seen something. On you, I mean, on a video he sent. Like a welt, or a-' Peter cut off. The words clawed at his throat.

Wade stitched wordlessly, finishing quickly before putting his forehead on Peters knee, hands holding his hips. Peter put his face in Wades hair, breathing slowly. 

'You remember when we met?'

Peter was storking his hands along Wades back, humming pleasantly. It was Panic! At The Disco. 'The fight?'

'Nuh-uh,' Wade made no attempt to move, pressing his nose into Peters newly stitched leg, 'Before then, we met in photography. I had offered to help with the modelling.'

'Now I remember, you were lapping up the attention,' Peters laugh was electricity down his spine. The first choke was worse. 

'I looked up at you there, you were sitting the furthest away as possible. I took one look at you and went oh no, not the cutie in glasses,' Wade lifted his head and smiled goofily, meeting eyes brimming with tears, 'I knew I was a goner. Part of me wished you'd keep your distance, but honestly? I was praying for you to ask for a picture.'

'With all those girls fawning over you, it must have been a nightmare,' Peter rolled his eyes, swallowing hard. Wade shifted onto his knees so their heads were at the same level, noses brushing. 

'I got a lot of numbers from there, I can tell you that. Eventually even got my targets,' Wade smiled and pressed a finger to Peters chest, 'Shame the camera had to suffer.'

Peter stopped even trying to smile when his hands scanned over his neck, feeling the raise with a grimace, 'You're not dying, Wade. I don't allow it.'

'Good, cause I wanted to stick around,' Wade leant in and kissed him lightly, 'What sort of boyfriend would I be if I did that.'

That night, Domino sent several texts to Deadpool, demanding payment. Wade slept through them, Peter tucked neatly in his arms, practically dead to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah the problems from last chapter were resolved pretty quickly, but I really wanted to get on with the plot, and you can see why that went the way it did.  
> Hope you liked this!


	10. Romeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its sad to see two people who are so in love, that they don't understand sometimes living for each other is worse than dying.

'Wolves.'

'Wolves?'

'Wolves.'

Peter blinked. Happy Saturday breakfast time with Wade had officially begun, and he was clearly set on being as nonsensical as ever, 'What about wolves?'

'They're pretty bad ass,' Wade flipped another pancake carefully. Where he'd concocted the ingredients to make them in the first place was a mystery, but that was Wade all over, 'I saw some when I was a kid. They were good wolves. One of them was sick.'

Peter tensed. It wasn't so much that moderately depressing topics were uncommon, but that this was the first time there had been any mention of disease since way back before... Before Harry told him. Parker was sat at the table, perched in his seat and leaning, staring intently at the mop of blonde hair. He tried not to look where the large tumour, resting underneath red fabric, was situated. He failed. 

Wade was not one for talking over emotions, on any sort of scale, and if ever he did it was using analogies or bad jokes. It was almost touching to know just how much effort he was putting in. 

'The worker pointed to it and said to me, "That wolf. They all said" -why are you laughing at me?'

'Is the accent necessary?' Peter grinned, trying to contain the giggle threatening to break free. 

'He was Scottish!'

'I don't know what you were doing, but I can promise you it wasn't Scottish!'

Wade turned around and stuck his tongue out, before continuing, 'Okay fine do it your way. No accent. Whatever. Anyway, he was like,"they all said that wolf would die. Me? Nah. The thing about wolves is, they live if they wanna. They'll just keep fighting till they pull through. If a wolf gives up, you can't do anything. But, kid, if it keeps fighting then it damn well fights it out."'

Peter took a plate handed to him, nodding slowly, 'And he made it?'

'And he made it.'

The air was thick with unspoken words. I'll make it.

'Thanks lover-boy,' Peter stared at the pancakes, not sure how to tackle such a large pile because Jesus, 'I still don't get why you make so many though.'

'It just happens,' Wade replied, shrugging, 'Shovel in, Short-stack.'

Peter huffed, silently cursing the significant height difference because it was so not fair and there was practically no age difference to blame. 

'Hey Romeo?' 

Wade sat on the opposite side of the table and smiled, 'Yeah, Juliet?' 

'If Harry hadn't told me, would you?'

Wade settled in front of him, stabbing at his own syrup monstrosity, 'Nah. Some things are better off as secrets.'

'And if it was the other way around?'

'I'd go to the end of the universe for you, Parker. I mean it. But its not the other way around, and I just...' Wade took Peters hands and held them, not caring about the fork still in his grip, 'You've had such a shit time, I didn't want to drag you down. Also, can you shave my head?'

'Yeah, of course. Now?'

Wade nodded, so Peter hopped up and fetched what he might need - the electric razor, towels, shaving cream, etc - before covering the kitchen floor with the towels so hair could be disposed of easily. He did a quick scan of the internet, rather uncertain about not slicing Wades head open by accident. Peter practiced on himself upstairs, shaving the shorter side hipster-style. It kinda worked.

Wade blinked at him when he came into the kitchen, but mercifully said nothing. He was sitting on one of the dining chairs which had been pushed further away, closer to the sink. The food had all been stacked onto the side counter, cling-film to the ready should they decided to save the pancakes for later. 

'Goodbye goldilocks,' he muttered when Peter began, starting from behind the ear one side to go across methodically. 

'I found a center to get treated,' Wade chipped in, feeling a hand smooth across his head while the one worked, 'its up in Canada, but its probably the best chance I've got.'

'Canada,' Peter echoed, 'I can do Canada.'

Wade went to shake his head, but quickly realised that was a pretty bad idea, ' the treatment is rough, and I'm sure it'll be fine afterwards but during the process... I don't want you to see me like that. I will call every and any day I can, but that's all.'

'Sometimes it feels like you just want to be rid of me,' Peters voice was too soft, barely audible over the constant bzzzz of the razor, 'Or that you don't want to come back.'

'I can honestly say, I would happily be with you for the rest of my life,' Wade closed his eyes, as if that would help, 'and I always come back, like a bad penny.'

'More of a lucky penny,' Peter smiled, 'I'm lucky to have you.'

While what little hair left was shaved away, they sat in utter, intimate silence.

'It suits you,' Peter smiled, kissing the bald scalp lightly, wrapping his arms around Wades shoulders. Maybe what they had was perfect, maybe it was far from. One way or another, there was love present, and that was what mattered most. 

'Come on, I gotta clear this up,' Wade craned his head back to stare at his boyfriend, 'Up and at em, Parker. You have a job.'

'Eh,' Peter shrugged, pulling away to let Wade out, 'It doesn't start till - ah shit. Yeah okay, I should be off. Be nice, clear up, don't pee on the carpet, you know the rules.'

Wade rolled his eyes but rinsed his head in the sink without protest, rubbing the skin clean if any loose hairs. There was a lot across the floor and it was strange, realising how proud he had been of his hair. And now Peter had changed his, too. 

'See you later sweetie,' Peter leaned up and they kissed lightly before Wade settled down, listening for the tell tale smack of door on cheap framework. If he came back, he'd ask Peter to live with him. That was, if he could get a real job. Maybe the government might want him? They probably did some super zero-dark-thirty shit he could get involved with. 

When he finished on the floor and disposed of the hair, he settled in Peters bed, staring up at the oscillating fan while the phone dialed. 

'This is Deadpool. I see that my application for the Weapon X program has been approved, although I have some conditions. Please bare in mind that should you go back on anything stipulated, I can and will kill you,' He grimaced down the phone, imagining Peter hearing him say that, 'I want the ability to contact the outside world at any time. I don't give a shit if you listen in, but I'm doing it.'

There was very hurried talking down the other end, which was followed by irritant agreement. Perfect. 

'Second, I need confirmation that should anything go wrong, compensation is paid to my... Family. Oh okay, sweet.'

He paused, thought, then, 'This should only take a couple of months, right? No, I don't care. Honestly, doesn't make a difference what you do, I just want to be home sooner rather than later. Also, I'm to be there in a week, correct? Okay, thanks.'

He disconnected and dropped the phone. It was a ratty little thing, but also untraceable. 

Peter would forgive him, hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now its hitting the main plot - exciting for me, probably not for you guys haha. Also, hope you enjoy, and thank you guys so much far all your lovely comments over the time! Its just been amazing. <3


	11. Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Peter have a very strong relationship, full of love and need. That is, before the weapon x program.

Peter knew Wade was going the next day when he took him out for dinner. It was an expensive restaurant, having them suited as a bare minimum. It wasn't the first time they had gone out together, smaller dates and cinema trip, but the formality of the evening was what made its impression. 

Settled down facing each other, Peter tried to get a scope of his surroundings. Thick and heavy in red, predominantly, candle lit and soft live music that thrummed in the background. None of it felt real. 

All through the starter they spoke about everything bar Canada, evading Wade leaving spectacularly. The conversation topic was predominantly school and work, leading off into video games and the Wade complaining that his favourite games still hadn't got a sequel. It wasn't until half way through the main that Wade gave up and started talking properly. 

'So, you know I'm leaving,' Wade extended his legs, seeking any physical contact he could get, crossing their ankles, 'I got a key made for you, for my apartment. Just in case you felt like you missed it or something.'

'Or missed you,' Peter smiled, small but still existent. 

'Yeah. Right. I'm allowed to call you too, and it should only take a couple of months. You'll wait for me, right?' The uncertainty there was painful to hear. Peter wondered yet again what Wades upbringing was like. Lonely, he suspected. 

'Of course, so long as you come back,' leaning across the table slightly, Peter took Wades hand in his own and kissed the knuckles lightly. A couple nearby grimaced. He couldn't care less. 

When they went home, Peter slept practically on top of Wade, trying to choke back tears. It was not often that Peter actually cried -glazed eyes, maybe, but tears? No. Normally, he could hold them off. He knew he failed when the grip on his shoulder tightened and a hand ran across him, settling in the small of his back. The only noises were his bitten back tears and sweet nothings in response, a night-chorus of 'I love you's.'

When Peter woke up, he woke up alone. 

Spiderman became a larger presence on the streets. He took on greater challenges, pushing against bigger and stranger enemies such as the Rhino - which was cringe worthy, lets be honest here. He donated blood to Harry Osborn, after much debating about the health and safety risks as well as exposure, who with Peters help began synthesising a cure for the goblin disease. Gwen helped Peter move from his aunts house into Wades, which was roomier and far more practical work wise. Gwen didn't judge, just lugged in a cardboard box of clothes. And really, where would he be without either of them? He was barely keeping sane as it was. At least he did receive calls semi-regularly from Wade, often accompanied with several texts. They didn't often speak about the treatment, or the time that past. It seemed like Wade would be celebrating his birthday away, though. He cared more that he was home in time for Peters. Peter just wanted him to come home generally.

The Avengers quickly took a shining to him (or rather, the other way around) and Spiderman found himself back to back with Captain America at one point. He nearly swooned. Or fainted. He lost a lot of blood, that time. 

If there was one thing Peter knew, it was that he envied Captain Americas healing power. Sure, he healed faster, but a busted leg could leave him under house arrest. Which was another thing - hiding his wounds was becoming more difficult. And when he said that, he meant both Gwen and Harry found out his identity when he called them over to get a bullet out his shoulder.

'You could have said something sooner,' Harry and cursed, holding his hand comfortingly while Gwen used her tweezers. Apparently, she was braver than either of them, 'This is so dangerous, Pete.'

Peter attempted a smile through his grimace, teeth clenching tighter on the belt in his mouth. The pain was not unbearable, but he didn't want to upset either of his friends. They were in Wades apartment. Nobody would hear him even if he screamed, the building was soundproofed.

'So I guess this means I should say thanks for the blood, asshole,' Harry was scrutinising him, clearly still processing everything, 'And sorry you got shot rescuing me.'

Gwen looked ready to have an aneurism, 'This isn't your first time?'

Both men shrunk in their seats, 'It was more of a graze than anything else, right?'  
Harry nodded enthusiastically at his side, using his free hand to indicate a size. There was barely an inch gap between his fingers bless.

'Annnd you're good,' a small 'tink' noise and the bullet was dropped into a petri dish. He would probably chuck it later, he'd been shot before and this wasn't exactly a momentous occasion. Rather unglorified, above anything else, 'Feel free to not get shot again anytime soon.'

'You crazy son of a bitch,' Harry laughed lightly, awe slipping into his voice. They sat in the quiet of the evening before the phone rang and Peter practically leapt up, barely wincing. The youngest Osborn just shook his head loosely.

'Hey? Oh, hey there baby,' he stuck his thumbs up at his friends, mouthing 'wade' using his head to gesture towards his phone. As if they couldn't guess. His injured arm hung limp at his side.

'Oh yeah no I'm fine-' wow, those glances between Harry and Gwen, they were totally judging him. Ouch. '-how about you? Is it going well?'

Wade was beating his fingers against his phone, staring at the wall by his bunk, 'yeah, fine. They're just doing physical tests at the moment.' Somewhere in the background he heard Logan snorting. Whatever. At least Logan was one humourless son of a bitch, or he'd never hear the end of it, 'I should be next on the list for the injections. There is a chance this doesn't work, you know. Or that it goes wrong. Or something.'

'And if it does, we'll figure it out. We make things work, okay babe?'

'I love you. I mean it, Peter.'

'I love you too,' Gwen and Harry took that as their cue to leave, giving curt nods before heading out. He nodded at their backs, thankful and guilty at the same time, 'And promise me you'll come back? To me?'

'I promise. Look I gotta go, they want to run some tests. I'll speak to you soon, okay? You keep waiting for me, yeah?'

'Yeah.'

The line went dead, and Peter lay on the sofa, staring skyward.

Peter waited, took huge risks, nearly exposed his identity on live TV, the usual. It felt like insanity. The next call came at two o'clock in the morning, at least a month late. He didn't know anymore. 

'They fucked up,' Wades voice alone sounded scratched hoarse, and there was a strange gitter to his voice. Fear.

'Wad-'

'Shhh,' The insistency there was almost frightening, crazy in fact, 'You can't see us again. Me again. Again. Me. No. Its a mess, babe. Its a fucking mess. I can't come back I can't. Fuck. Fucking fuck I should have - shit. Shut up.'

'I didn't-' Peter was looking dead on, as if Wade might materialize before him. No such luck, 'You're okay. Whatever it is, just come home. Okay?'

There was a whine, as if he was fighting between breaths. Fighting to get the words out, 'Can't. Please. Love you so much. Too much. Can't. Bye, babe.'

The phone disconnected, leaving him sitting there, trying to wrestle between anger, fear and... Something else. Abandonment, maybe. 

Wade would come back, he had promised. Back like a bad penny.


	12. Deadpool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman finds himself having to deal with Deadpool for the first time and really does not like him.

Peter quickly decided he hated Deadpool. Maybe that was pretty unfair, since he hadn't got close enough to unlock his no doubt tragic backstory, but still. He'd heard plenty about him from The Avengers, almost entirely negative at that, but he was somehow worse in person. Maybe, it was because despite being the merc with the mouth, he wouldn't actually talk to Peter. Or Spiderman. Same thing, really. Even when he stood there, Katanas coated him blood, wiping down the blade with a dead mans shirt, he said nothing. Peter wasn't even sure he listened when he gave a brief explanation on why murder wasn't a good thing.

Maybe it was because he reminded him of Wade. Just small little details, like the little salute he would do after a victory, or the fact they were the same height. They had the same laugh, too. Peter had managed to smack a villain straight in the nuts with his web, only to hear a sudden snort from no-ones favourite anti-hero. It was an endearing resemblance. He hated it. 

The first time he actually encountered Deadpool was in the back of an alley, two weeks after Wades phone call. Three of King Pins men had stepped up as challengers, seeming an unfair battle against one man. Before Spiderman had said anything, he'd heard plenty of banter between the villain and the not-so-hero, but as soon as he called down a comment and joined, Deadpool said nothing. And didn't again, ever. He actually didn't know what his voice sounded like. Peter wasn't sure if that was the bat-shit crazy way to rejecting someone or some even crazier way of showing compassion. Either way, Peter decided to value his sanity and not question anything, instead just wrap up with the villains and head off. He went home and texted Wade again, receiving another apology in return. He wasn't giving up, though. Not yet. 

At least he knew Wade was alive. That one thought got him through long days of crime fighting, and longer nights of work with Oscorp. It was a small comfort, maybe, but a comfort none the less. He had been advised several times to just cut it off, but... No. They were gonna work it out, one way or another. Wade was gonna come back. 

'Dude,' Harrys voice. They were in his lab back at the Osborn tower. It felt like he was being paid to hang out with the guy paying him, which was pretty awesome all things considered, 'Go to sleep, pet a dog, curl up in a blanket and binge game of thrones, something. Just get outta here, man. You look like dead.'

'Yeah sorry,' they were alone, staring up at the electric simulations. They hadn't yet found a full cure, but a way to postpone the disease, which was the furthest anyone had gotten. Even their parents hadn't managed to get that far - take that 'dad'. They were so fucking close, 'I just really want to do this.'

Damn well knowing that what they were doing was life saving, Harry grinned; something that had become so rare. He had been busy, trying to root out the deep-seated corruption in his company while developing a cure for himself. He probably hadn't had a good sleep in weeks. 

'If its about you-know-who, you-know you can talk to me, right?' 

Peter ran a hand through his hair. Lights skittered before him - another failed subject. Shit. 'Can't help it man, Voldemort's just weighing me down.'

'Don't worry, Ron, me and Hermione have got your back,' laughter cut through the first syllables, making each word jump. 

'Wait, why am I Ron,' Peter shoved him lightly, changing the programming on the board, hiding his face. He wasn't going to give Harry the satisfaction of seeing him laugh. 

'Well, obviously I'm Potter. All about names, man,' Harry shrugged, before gesturing with his eyebrow, 'I know what I'm doing this Halloween. You can dye your hair ginger, and maybe we can convince Gwen?'

'She loves the books, don't worry,' Peter moved to the desk, digging out his notebook.

'Yes!' Harry pulled his arm down, gesturing victory, before turning to Peter, 'so you know I'm your boss, and what I say goes? Go get a good nights sleep, and don't come back till you look at less like a Warm Bodies zombie. Got it?' 

'Don't fire me if I don't,' Peter hauled his bag over his back and headed out. The building was practically empty at these times, being rather unconventional working hours, but the electricity for the higher and ground level didn't cut for at least an hour. He stopped to say hey to Max and a couple of the other workers - Gwen had said that they were pretty lonely guys, so he tried to be at least friendly - before making his way down town. The building was situated amongst banks and other tec buildings, meters away from Stark tower itself. At first, the two had been in serious competition, but now Harry had made sure to collaborate with at least the lower workers. Peter tried to avoid Stark himself, after smacking into him - literally - on the day he got bitten. Yeah, no thanks. He walked the longer way, so he didn't have to stare up at the huge towers. 

He was several streets down when he heard shouting and ran to help.

Another shitty alleyway because wow was New York full of them, and some nameless thug about to bring a pipe down on some teenage boy. No time to change, he leapt, giving a hard kick to the mans back. Something cracked - he didn't want to know what. At least they were alive, and incapacitated. That was the operative point. Instead Peter gestured to the damsel in distress, who got up and left without hesitation. Peter watched cheap sneakers against tarmac as the boy fled.

A hand came down on his shoulder hard, dislocating it at the joint. Another muscle had come around the corner, scowling, looking at the guy on the floor with much disgust. They were preparing for another blow while he tried to twist his body round in retaliation. 

Peter didn't see the shooter at first. He had been readying for a hit that never came, bracing his good side, when blood splattered over his vision. The shot was non-lethal, sure, but still... Jesus. There was a lot of blood. He found himself transfixed by the body, only breaking his gaze when the footsteps were uncomfortably close.

Deadpool walked up to him, sliding his gun back into the holster. He put one hand to his mask, over where his lips were presumably, before touching Peters dislocated shoulder. A silencing gesture, Peter realised.

With a sharp motion, he practically snapped the arm back into its joint and 'Oh fucking hell ow.'

Was it possible to look apologetic with a mask on? Deadpool did, slumped slightly, and Peter was torn between thanking him and yanking his mask off. In the light of things, the former seemed more appropriate.

'Thanks, there,' Peter smiled awkwardly, rotating his shoulder to test it, 'For not killing them, as well. Kinda means a lot, since you've got a rep for high carnage and... Shit...'

Wow, that was way more awkward than it should be. Peter still hated him, though. He still hadn't said a goddamn word though, and was just staring at him. 

'I'm starting to get the feeling you really don't want to talk to me,' Peter said, then kicked himself. It was too close to something Wade had said. Somehow, he hated that more.

Deadpool shrugged his shoulders, more human than one might expect, which was stupid. Of course he was human. It wasn't like he didn't know, but that it only just occurred to him that this killer had his own life, his own story that had only just began overlapping. Peter wanted to know more, but felt that was somehow unlikely. 

Deadpool began walking off and Spiderman let him go, watching uncertainly before returning back to his- Wades- apartment. The front of the bedroom had his polaroid pictures scattered across, spilling out from one side to the other. His favourite one had disappeared, though, one from the night they first had sex. It was a cute selfie of the two of them, one that Peter assumed Wade must have taken. The weird tho g was, he could swear it went missing after Wade left...

Maybe he was going crazy? After all, he saw similarities between Wade and Deadpool. He was loosing it, officially. Oh god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I updated twice but Jesus I'm tired right now ._.


	13. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman and Deadpool find themself together more and more. Hard to keep identities a secret for too long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight suicide warning I guess? Referenced and stuff, but its a sensitive topic so if you find it upsetting please not it is referenced.

Spiderman was getting a little sick of the heroic rescues. Everytime things got intense, fucking Deadpool would show up, blast them to holy hell, and then disappear again. Peter wondered again if it was some type of crazy friendship. Maybe not. It was hard to apply logic to such a rash person. It was starting to become difficult to explain, especially to other heroes like the avengers or hell god damn Jonny Storm, who knew just which buttons to press. 

And he had to admit, Deadpool had saved his life on numerous occasions, and didn't even kill anyone in the process. If that wasn't friendship sick, twisted friendship then he didn't know what was. Peter had decided that between Harry, Gwen and Flash, he probably didn't need any more crazy, spontaneous friendships. No, he wouldn't trade those around him for the world, but this? This was heroes and anti-heroes, or maybe a fucking villain depending on the time of day. He made a mental note to try and stay away from Deadpool, at least for his own sanity. 

Until he saw him on golden gate bridge. Deadpool was perched pretty high up, above the hubbub of traffic, staring at the water. How he managed to scale the the huge metal pole for the sake of sitting on top was anyone's guess. Peter hopped up, balancing on the metal beams that composed the framework. Wow was he glad for the sticky padding of his suit.

'Admiring the view?' Peter shuffled a little close, full well aware that his man had killed people. Still did, maybe. It was all rather uncertain. There was very little he understood about Deadpool, and he damn well knew this was thin ice.

Deadpool used sign language, then, and wow was Peter glad he had been taught by the avengers or he'd be screwed. He'd only ever needed words like 'Jump' or 'duck' for Hawkeye, but god the gist of it. 'Admiring the distance.'

Peter stared down at the water beneath them and wow if it didn't feel like Deadpool was gonna jump. People had said he couldn't die, but Peter wasn't sure if that was literal or a turn of phrase, some sort of urban legend to scare the big baddies with. A mercenary who couldn't die, and a teenager who was part spider. What a pair they made. At least the costumes matched. 

The next words signed at him were, 'go home'.

'No point,' Peter pulled his mask up so it sat across his nose, glad to be able to breathe properly, 'Its just empty.'

Deadpool nodded as if he understood. Maybe he did. 

It was the silence that did it, he reckoned. Or the insanity that just followed Deadpool. Whatever it was, Peter ended up just... Talking. Sat there, now resting on the metal beam, dangling his legs and explaining living alone, with the fear of abandonment. He didn't go into details about his love life or the rejection be felt, and hell no he did not use names. Someone as volatile as Deadpool did not need his - or any - details. Sometimes, he would get little gestures in reply, but mostly the other man just listened, watching an easy sunset. Night would fall soon, another starless night, and Peter had to get back to his patrol. 

'Good one way conversation, man, really appreciate it,' Spiderman said, patting the shoulder next to him almost sarcastically before hopping down and swinging away. 

Deadpool jumped when he stepped off the bridge. Peter tried and failed to not feel guilty. 

When the patrol was over, he climbed into his apartment and sent off a text to Wade, which was just, 'I miss you.' He hadn't got a reply in a while, and sure it was hitting give-up time, but... He couldn't do it. 

He slept with his phone in his hand, imprinting a rectangle into his cheek. Somehow, he didn't notice reviving the reply until breakfast. 

'You shouldn't.'

Peter wanted to cry. He had at first tried filling in a missing person report, but none of the police stations believed he was actually gone. Weird, how that one worked out. 

The next time they met, Deadpool had been tied by a rope from some dilapidated shop sign, kicking uselessly. Also, his hand seemed to be growing. Ew.

'Jesus Christ hell - what the fuck,' Peter hopped up, untying the rope. Deadpool dropped unceremoniously to the floor, landing in a crouch and staggering forward, shuffling with the stumps that were wrists, 'Immortal. Okay. Cause that's a thing that exists.'

Deadpool got up, stretched, then bolted off down the alley. 

'Wait!' Peter hopped over a bin and started jogging, only to pick up a sprint when Deadpool sped away, 'Are we gonna talk about this? Or anything? Ever?'

Deadpool took another corner, kicking off the wall to keep up momentum. 

Ohhh, he was gonna feel bad about this later, but he hit with his web shooter and caught Deadpools hand - or, what was hand, or whatever - yanking him back.

'God damn it Peter!' 

Peter froze in place, just long enough for Deadpool to cut the web and try slip away. He knew that voice. That god damn voice and oh god what the hell had happened? 

No, fuck, he needed to do something. 

Spiderman began chasing again, this time more feverishly, swinging distances faster. Rain began beating against his suit as he got closer. It was almost pathetic fallacy. 

'Hold up! Please!' Peter swung the final gap and with a strong aim (plus good webs, thank you again Oscorp) he yanked the mask off, exposing a bald and scarred head.

'You shouldn't have done that,' The merc clung onto his face, having stopped in his tracks, 'You should have just backed the fuck off, babe. You should have just given up.'

He felt broken. And yeah okay, cliche and all but Jesus it was like everything had turned upside down, and there was a single figure standing in the wreckage. 

He took a step forward as Deadpool moved back, walking in equal time to one another. Deadpool still hid his face. 

'Please,' Peter outstretched a hand, and there was that name on the tip of his tongue that he just, 'please, Wade.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poor babies are so not okay right now ._.


	14. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll love you long after you're gone, gone, gone

The atmosphere alone could be cut with a knife. Deadpool had physically tensed, bringing his hands away from his face and oh dear god what the hell had happened. 

When Wade spoke, there was so much venom. Most of it was self-directed, 'Are you happy now? Congrats, you caught me, all frick-a-fucked up. You know you don't even change your voice, right? Like how has no ones discovered you before?'

Peters bottom lip quivered, but he refused to move. If he did, Wade might run again, and he couldn't live with that. Instead, he lowered himself submissively, pulling off his mask. It was hard to tell if Wade smiled or grimaces in response.

'Hey there, Parker.'

'Hey, Wilson,' He grinned and stepped closer, but Wade flinched away again, 'I love you.'

Wade shook his head, running a hand over one of the many scars hazardously scratched into his skin, 'Don't. Even if you mean it, just don't. I have fucking voices in my head, Parker, and that's just the start. I can't deal, not now, maybe not ever.'

Peter took another step forward, and this time Wade stayed still. His hand was still outstretched, as if he was calming an animal. It felt so patronising, but he couldn't help it, 'I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'd never let you go.'

Wade furrowed his brow, before the song clicked. Good old Taylor Swift. Peter remembered his thing for her music. 

'When all those shadows almost killed your light,' Peter scrunched his face, trying to choke down the tears. It wasn't working, 'I remember you said-'

'Don't leave me here alone,' Wade stood up and walked over, fighting down the boxes because they meant nothing, not when Peter was right there singing flat as hell round the back of an alley. Not when he hadn't spoken to the love of his life for months, 'Please, don't.'

'Don't run away,' Peter put a hand on his shoulder, then another on his hip, before pulling him in. Wade gripped tightly, practically clawing at Spidermans costume as he held on. And hell no, he was not crying, it would shatter his fragile masculinity. 

A tear soaked into the fabric beneath his face. Yeah okay, so he was crying a bit. Whatever, it wasn't like Pete was dry-eyed. 

'You like what you see,' Wade snorted when he felt fingers running along his scars.

'No less than ever,' he moved his head back and kissed, feeling jagged and rough skin beneath his. He could honestly look like anything, Peter doubted he'd mind. 

'Your ass looks fantastic in that suit, by the way,' Wade pulled back and grabbed his mask, pulling it to across his nose. 

'It always does,' Peter rolled his eyes before pulling his own mask on, 'Coming home or what? Oh yeah, shit I forgot, I moved in. To your place, that is. I mean, if you're not cool with that I can go, but-'

'Its fine. I actually... I was gonna ask you, I mean, if you wanted to. Back before... This happened,' he gestured over his features unhappily.

'Beautiful.'

Wade didn't reply, but practically rag dolled when Spiderman carried him out and up, across sky scrapers and down again, reaching the apartment in record time. 

'I can't do this,' Wade stepped back from the door - and Peter - shaking his head, 'They kinda beat the domesticness out of me.'

'Talk to me, Wade,' he reached up and held the battered face, 'please.'

'I guess you figured out what my job was,' Wilsons smile was fake bravado and self loathing, 'most of them were bad people - sick, twisted, a couple of rapists. Others, hell others were kids, were like you. Sweet little brats that hadn't done a damn thing.'

Wade stepped inside almost instinctively, letting him be guided to the sofa. He thought about admitting that time with Harry, but decided not to throw him under the bus as well, 'I signed myself up to the Weapon X program - it is what it sounds like, really. They said that they could cure me. I didn't realise they meant of all the things that made me human, too.'

Wade held up where his hands had grown back, 'I can't die from the cancer because I can't die, period. I almost wish that I could.'

Peter pressed their foreheads together, kneeling between his legs, 'I'm glad you made it out, Wade. I'm so fucking glad, you don't... I missed you.'

'Oh really?' Wade ran a hand through messy hair, 'Did you mourn me, babe? (probably not)'

'Of course.'

'You're not gonna go all Philip Philips on me now, are you? Cause we've already had Swifty, I don't think I can deal with any more Glee moments.'

'Is that so? So if I started singing....'

'Don't test me, Parker,' it was the closest they had gotten to a laugh so far. Good.

'Your hope dangling by a string, I'll share in your suffering to make you well, make you well,' Peter pursed his lips, closing his eyes so as not to look at the depression which hung onto Wades body, 'Give me reasons to believe that you would do the same for me, and I will do it for you.'

'I love you,' Wade whispered, barely audible above their own heartbeats (huh, gaaay), 'Don't say it back, please. Just know that I do, okay?'

'Okay,' Peter ran a hand through his hair nervously, biting his bottom lip. He was honestly exhausted, but damn well knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep properly. Not now, when just blinking ran the risk of losing Wade again. 

'You need a change of clothes,' Peter commented, pulling off a spidey-glove to wipe some of the dirt from Deadpools costumes, 'and a shower. Come on, shouldn't be that difficult.'

Wade again let himself be pulled away, as if all the energy and - hell- life had been sucked out of him. Peter decided it was probably best not to know what the Weapon X did, lest he start a war between America and their northern neighbours.

Wade showered alone and used the towel to conceal as much of his body as possible, changing into loose fitting clothes and _the_ hoodie which he pulled up, covering his head. 

'You don't have to be so conscious around me, you know that, right?' Peter touched his hand before going off to remove his contacts. He was by the sink when two hand curled around his waist and a head settled on his shoulder.

'I can't sleep with you,' Wade nuzzled closer into his neck, breathing in deeply, 'Nightmares. I could (will) hurt you.'

Peter tipped his head back, 'Not an option, Wilson. You skipped town for too long, I feel like you'll do it again. Besides, I want you to be next to me when I wake up.'

'And if I hurt you?'

'You won't, and hell if you did it would be my fault.'

'I wouldn't be able to live with myself, Parker.'

'I'm not able to live without you, so that makes us even, okay?'

'Okay. So long as you're happy.'

'Whenever you're around, babe.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly uses Philip Philips because they do in the film and I love the song...


	15. Dreamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I'm a mess and you're worse, just give me time, to give you a waste of time. Its just one of those nights where you leave me for no reason, I'll give you a reason'  
> -The Cab, 'One of those nights'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say sorry for the late update but I have a story on here which is a year overdue so... Yeah..

The screaming came first. It ripped apart Peters dreams until he jolted awake, something heavy weighing on his chest.

'Wade? You there?' 

Peter reached for the lamp by their bed, but a hand grabbed his and pulled it back. Well, at least the screaming had stopped. Sobbing wasn't much better. 

What was actually pressed against him was a knee, he realised, which wouldn't have been such a problem is there wasn't something definitely sharp against his neck. It glinted occasionally whenever a passing car streaked over them. A mirror shard, he realised, not that it overly mattered. It was just nice to know when something was threatening to open ones jugular just what that something was. 

'They want me to kill you,' a voice above him, and he could feel Wades breath against his face. Each word rolled out too quickly, 'I can't.'

'Glad to hear it,' Peter smiled, 'let me turn on the lights?'

Movement - Wade was shaking his head. He touched Peter again, this time pressing a hand across his mouth, and it was only then that he was awake enough to realise the palms were wet. Please, please let that be sweat. 

The make-shift weapon was pushed in, drawing the smallest dribble of blood, and Wade whined, pulling away suddenly. Peter managed to actually turn on the light this time, and Wade had either slipped out quietly or was hiding. It felt like a horror movie, really, where he could either stay in bed with the covers pulled up or embrace his inner suburban horror cliche and go investigate. Figuring that being in bed did very little to help the guys in Paranormal Activity, he hopped up, pulling duvet up over his shoulders as he went. 

There was blood on the sheets, Peter noted as he pulled them closer. Probably on his face too. Gross. 

'Hey?' Peter crossed to the en suite first, figuring that was closest. 

The tiles were awash with blood and shattered mirror. Some of the pieces had been ground up, and Peter could imagine it, could imagine Wade stomping his his heels until the shards caved in. 

The Deadpool costume had been abandoned in the bath, soaking in ankle-deep water. Some of the colour had leaked out, turning everything a pastel pink, indicating it had been there for a while. Peter winced, carefully dodging the worst parts of the floor on his way out and through to the rest of the apartment. 

'Come on, you've gotta be hurt at least, let me help?'

Again he was forced into a situation without light, only this time it was because somebody had smashed the switch. Going on the fact there were only two of them and it was wet-slick, Peter had a pretty good guess about who that had been. 

Due to the open-living style of the apartment, there weren't any other defined rooms, but Wade was huddled in the sort of kitchen, tucked behind a black-polish isle while hugging his knees. Peter only knew he was there because he had been heading to the sink and walked into what he previously presumed to be a stall. 

'You feeling better?' Peter kneeled down, reaching out to touch Wade. His hand was quickly pushed away. 

'I'm super duper thanks,' Wade used a voice which was not sarcastic enough, 'Okay, rude.'

Another statement directed at seemingly noone. Peter remembered him mentioning voices but... Jeez. This was serious. Serious and dangerous. 

'Are you hurt, Wade?'

'Nah. It'll all stitch up again,' Wade rubbed his hands over his sore feet, 'What about you? Part of me thought I'd killed you back- 50% did. Yellows opinion doesn't count.'

Peter bit his lip, feeling the small cut on his neck, 'I'm fine. I've had worst, that is. You should go back, try and get some sleep.'

Wade didn't move but sat, picking at a healing scab along his ankle. It ripped off with little protest, 'I'd rather just stay here, if that's alright. I mean I'm gonna anyway, but hey.'

Peter nodded, patting Wades knee before collecting some blankets and pillows, dumping them in the kitchen for Wade to sleep with, 'You could make a blanket fort. I'd offer to help but it seems like you don't want me here.'

'I love you to the end of the ever stretching universe,' Wade smiled, 'The other guys less so, but still. I need you to go back to bed. Go back and... Yeah. Go.'

Peter felt like he was in a telltale video game at that moment, and a little text had flashed up effectively saying he'd used the wrong speech option.

'Okay, but when I get up I expect pancakes, alright? Syrup and butter, the whole nine. And a plaster for my neck, got it?'

'We can do,' Wade touched the cut on Peter tenderly. It was a guilty action, 'Maybe a foot massage and all. Then again the last time I offered someone a foot massage I cut their toes off so yeah... No. That's what the ugly step-sisters did, you know?'

And suddenly he was off on one, talking practically non-stop about literally every subject in the world. 

Peter smiled and leant in, putting his head on Wades shoulder. 

'What did I say about going to bed?'

'Shut up and talk.'

Wade stopped for a second, probably weighing up commenting or not. Instead he just started an improvised comparative essay about Niki Minaj, 'Anaconda' and Sir-Mix-Alot, 'Baby Got Back'. Peter went straight to sleep with Wade trying to do the rap but just getting irritated and repeating 'Dun-dun-dun-dun'. 

The next few days were no more successful. Wade often ended up sleeping in random corners across the premises, keeping in his mercenary costume for the most part. Peter couldn't prove it, but he was pretty sure Wade had worn the mask to bed. Hard as it was to understand for him, but Wade was insecure about his appearance now. For someone who had been so self-confident, the sudden and drastic change was... Uncomfortable to witness. 

At least the small things were the same. Wade still threw and caught his phone as an idle habit, still used way too many emojis while texting. Peter heard him singing in the shower, too, bouncing between Ke$ha and Beyonce with little fluidity. There was a slipping noise partway through, which meant the singing had inevitably led to dancing. Peter just huffed listened for a thud that didn't come. Good, one less thing to worry about. 

And of course, there was work as well. Peters frequent trips to Oscorp, or sending photos to Jameson. He called his Aunt once a day to keep her company, and took to the streets as Spiderman whenever he could. Deadpool would appear, sometimes, a blur of red and black, throwing out comments. Wade had a kamikaze fighting style, probably because he knew he couldn't die, but it still scared the absolute shit out of Peter. 

It took about a week of living together for Wade to drag himself in through the bedroom window. His katanas were stained red and his costume saturated with blood.

'Yours?' 

Wade pursed his lips, causing his mask to wrinkle, 'Not much.'

Peter wordlessly went off to began running a bath while Wade keeled over, ripping of his mask and gloves. Sighing, Wade sat up and reached over his shoulder, pulling the zipper down and peeling off the upper half if his costume.

'Gorgeous,' Peter was leaning on the doorway, smiling.

'I didn't know you were into the murderous and hideously deformed,' Wade got up and walked over, rubbing his neck, nervously, 'And here I was thinking I knew all your kinks, you cheeky little bastard.'

Peter shrugged, kissing Wade, 'I'm into you. Nothing else matters.'

Wade sighed, practically pinning Peter against the door frame, kissing him roughly, teasing his bottom lip between teeth. And suddenly all that insecurity was dead, and this... This was Wade, truly.

'You gotta go take that bath now,' Peter pulled his head back, arms hanging loosely over Wades bare shoulders, 'Or it'll overflow.'

'Yeah yeah, I know,' came the reply, to which neither of them moved, 'Care to join me?'

'If you insist.'

They weren't perfect, but hell were they trying. It was enough, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who is in exam, nightmare and depression hell! ._. If I start falling short on updates I'm really sorry, I'm trying but its... Difficult. I mean I'll be okay, I'm just a little out of sorts.  
> Oh yeah, I set up a wall, so if guys wanna say something to me, feel free to post it on my wall -> http://www.yourworldoftext.com/~fallenluzifer/


	16. Morals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He wants to dance like Uma Thurman, bury me till I confess. He wants to dance like Uma Thurman and I can't get you out of my head. The stench, the stench of summer sex' - Fall Out Boy, Uma Thurman

It wasn't the end of the world. The sun was still rising and their apartment still existed. The radio still droned in the background, and sirens still interlocked with the placidity. Despite this, Peter felt like he was in the middle of the apocalypse because fuck. 

Having sex with Wade was nothing new. The bath to the bedroom was a pretty new experience, but not by much. Sure, he'd gained a few scars here, there and everywhere, but that didn't matter either. What actually did matter was that Wade had blood under his nails even know, passed out face first on the bed, and it wasn't his. And yeah, maybe if Wade had started it then Peter wouldn't feel guilty, would be able to blame it on the spur of the moment. But no.

Fuck. 

Peter looked over at Wade, resting his cheek on his knee to get a better view. Like that, snoring lightly and twitching intensely against his dreams - nightmares - he looked so harmless. Maybe that was it. Maybe he just didn't look like a killer, so Peter didn't think of him as one.

'Wade?' Peter prodded his shoulder and Wade flinched, stirring, 'Wade? You awake?'

'I am now,' Was the gruff response. Wade rolled over and glared, 'I am not a morning person. Or evening or whatever the fuck the time is. Its not my time.'

'You went out on a job earlier right?'

Wade nodded slowly, grumbling as he pulled himself, leaning on his side to look at Peter, 'What's this about, Parker?'

'You killed someone, right?'

'That's the job,' Wade furrowed his brow skeptically, 'I don't think you'll like where we take this. Although it was a pretty sweet mortal combat K.O. Just fyi.'

'Were they bad?' Peter drew his legs in closer, wrapping his arms around them, 'Like, did they deserve it?'

'Depends. Some people would say I'm a bad person. Whether I deserve to die or not changes.'

'You don't deserve to- oh right I get it.'

'That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me,' Wade wiped away a fake tear, pausing for a second to listen to nothing before shrugging, 'Yeah, they were shitty people. They did a lot to hurt others, and were threatening my clients wife. Did they deserve it? I dunno. But they're dead. No changing that.'

Peter hummed thoughtfully, 'I'm gonna go on patrol. You should get some sleep while you can.'

'I was damn well trying,' Wade whined, swearing under his breath. 

The first thing Spiderman heard that night was 'Where's Deadpool?' Which was great, really, thanks Hawkeye for the support. Peter rolled up the bottom of his mask, letting Hawkeye lip read and using basic sign language as he went. 

'How should I know?'

'Well this is the first time you've been out without Red Ranger breathing down your neck. I was just wondering if someone had finally bumped him off.' Clint and him were up on one ot the larger buildings, staring down at the seemingly endless traffic. 

'Not yet.' 

'I'm amazed the guy still had his head, going on everything.' 

Peter was trying very hard not to get defensive. He knew how much Wade had cost the avengers, not just in time or collateral damage but also the several prisoners he had killed. SHIELD was not above using hostages to keep potential threats in line, but that was rather difficult when all the hostages got killed off. Peter knew he shouldn't try to make excuses for any of Deadpool's actions but... It was difficult. 

'He does some good,' Peter replied quietly, trying to act as casual as possible. If Hawkeyes face was to be trusted, he hadn't done a very good job. 

'Whatever, Spidey. Just don't get too attached to the guy, he's one hell of a loony toon,' Barton got up and started heading off, shrugging, 'I gotta go talk to Tracksuit down there. Nice hanging with you.'

Peter waved as Hawkeye hopped the side and clattered down an apartment fire escape. Tonight was almost scarily quiet, there being only a few reports of muggings over a night. At least one murder should have reached him by nightfall, but the city was at peace. He guessed with the increased amount of superhero activity, regular criminals just didn't see the point in risking it. Captain America kept himself to the shittiest of alleys on a good night, which would be a cool time for Spidey to swoop down and talk awesome with a living legend, but last time he tried he was sent to an unmonitored area. Ah well. At least Hawkeye and Iron Man loved him. He hadn't yet met Black Widow, but he'd pre-decided he didn't want to. 

He started heading home then, exhausted, and collapsed as soon as he hit the mattress. Meaning he had been too tired to notice Wade wasn't home.

Wade didn't show up for a couple of days. Peter had inquired with all of his friends, just to be sure, but yet again he left no trace. 

'I'm telling you, when he comes back in gonna be so pissed.'

'Or you'll fall lovingly into his arms,' Gwen rolled her eyes over the skype call. It had been a tearful departure, her leaving for Oxford, but damn if she wasn't happy there. Peter himself had taken a gap year. God knows how that was gonna go. 

'Probably,' Peter shrugged, running a hand through his hair, 'I don't know. I love him, ya know? Like, seriously a shit ton. I'm screwed, I'm so screwed.'

Peter left off the tiny detail that he kills people for a living. He was berating himself internally enough, there was no point in spreading it. 

Gwen shrugged, 'I gotta go, time zones and all, its really late here. I'll message you later alright?'

'Yeah. I miss the sanity around here, I mean with you gone Harry is just being clingy. Even his assistants starting to nag about it.'

She smiled before yawning and waving into the camera, disconnecting the call. Peter put his head on the desk in front of his laptop, sighing. 

When Wade came back, 8 days after his disappearance, Peter had to physically stop him from throttling the arsehole. 

'Let me guess, job?'

'Went wrong,' Wade shrugged, 'Could have done with some super-spider assistance, but I got furball instead and hd stabbed me which - rude - so rude - hurt a crap ton - ha - and it was just. Not fun. It was not good.' 

As Wade was talking he pulled off his many holsters, throwing them and his boots into the shoe basket. At least he took the guns out first, but if one his swords pierced Peters converse then he was going to freak. 

Peter lent up and kissing the mask, earning a smile in response, before Wade traipsed into the bedroom. Peter stared idly at the far wall, which was decorate with his photographs.

'You know, I don't have any recent pictures of you.'

Wade smirked as he rubbed the sore muscles in his legs. Sure he couldn't die, but that didn't mean hr couldn't feel pain, 'There's a reason for that. Come on babe, don't you wanna know how it went?'

'Depends. If someone died, then definitely not.'

'I didn't kill anyone,' Wade grinned, 'I mean it led to me being decapitated we faked a suicide but no one died! Whoop!'

Peter blinked for a couple of minuets, trying to place why he was so excited before realising that no one had ever praised him for not killing anyone.

'That's awesome! I mean not the decapitation,' Peter hunched awkwardly, before crossing the distance between them and hugging, 'But good job.'

Wade gripped on, hiding a grin in Peters shoulder. Oh yeah, he did good. 

'I want to be better,' Wade whispered, nuzzling. Everything in his head was screaming for him to shut up, shut up, shut up, but instead he kept going, 'Better in the head, and better... Just... Yeah.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love and support for this story and for my exams, bless you all <3


	17. Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I fit you better than your favourite sweater. You know love is mean, love hurts. You still remember that day we met in December?' ' Bastille, Requiem For Blue Jeans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look forward to the fluff of this chapter because geez

That day was different. The sun had finally appeared again, and there wasn't a single radio station that wasn't playing Lana Del Ray, 'Summertime Sadness'. 

Peter had been lingering in the longue, an image of wrapped presents dancing in his head, not really sure what to do with himself, when scarred arms enveloped his waist and he was pulled back.

'So, Parker,' Wade was rocking him from side to side, 'You know what today is, right?'

'Of course,' Peter was giggling, adjusting himself so that his feet were on Wades, letting him walk around. 

'We're going this way, towards and backward, dun-a-dun-dun sea?' Wade sang, trailing off at the end, as he stumbled around, Peter being carried along with him.

'Shut up!' Peter laughed, throwing his head back on to Wades shoulder - collarbone, really, given Wade was freakishly tall - 'You are such a teddy bear.'

'Excuse you, I am a fearsome lion, how dare you. And I had something important to say,' He stopped rocking them and loosened his grip, letting Peter spin around to face him.

'I'll believe that when I hear it.'

'Well let me talk and you will,' Wade kissed him lightly, grinning, feeling the hands cupping his neck and trying not to lean into the touch, 'So, one year ago, there was this pretty little damsel.'

'Oh really,' Peter rolled his eyes, 'And what was there name.'

'Peter Benjamin Parker,' Wade snorted, 'Who was such a huge, gigantic nerd that he was banned from Dungeons and Dragons club for being too unsocial. Like seriously, his auntie sewed his name into his underwear. Trust me, I've seen them up close. So, that little dweeb got pretty smacked up at school and - trying to tell a story here, what are you... Oh. Yeah okay kisses I can do kisses.'

Peter huffed before kissing him again, 'So that little dweeb, as you so eloquently put it.'

'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Parker. Anyway, these big scary fitness freaks were like beating on this dude, and that's where our hero steps in.'

'The oh so Brave Wade Winston Wilson,' Peters voice is somewhere between mocking and affectionate. 

'I'm sorry, are you telling this story or am I?'

'I was just gonna chip in about a certain heroes ass.'

'Or you could put a chip in - you know what? I'm not gonna finish that. That was weird,' Wade felt his stomach hurt from laughing and it was wonderful, 'anyway, our hero, Wade, sees little Princess Parker being smacked up and is like um, no. So, he runs in, saves the day cause he's a badass, sweeps Peter off his feet and they fall madly in love. And that all happened a year ago today.'

'Happy anniversary, Wilson.'

'You too, Parker. I got presents as well, cause I'm awesome. Come on!'

Peter sits cross legged on the sofa, pulling several wrapped boxes out from underneath his perch while Wade dipped into the bedroom to retrieve them. 

'Open yours first, I guess,' Wade pushed a small collaboration of boxes into his lap.

Peter lifted Wades hand to his face and kissed the knuckles before sliding his finger underneath one of the folds and, 'Jesus so that's where all the selotape went, I was wondering.'

He ended up just ripping the wrapping paper, revealing a brand new camera. It was a modern take on polaroid's, much more square and in pastel blue. He loved it.

'This is... Adorable. Honestly,' he lifted it up, looking through the sight, pointing deliberately towards Wade, finger hovering over the button, 'Can I?'

Wade nodded and gave a small smile when the flash went off. Peter put the photo aside, letting it develop while he practically forced Wade to open one from him. 

'Oh my god is this-' Wade pulled out a mulit-pack of Spiderman underwear, 'This is beautiful holy shit. I cant believe it, now I can have you on my dick all the time!'

Peter snorted and that was it. They were both doubled over laughing, tossing paper onto the floor as they went. 

Wade composed himself just enough to hand over the rest of his presents. He had brought a couple of books, more film for the camera, and a customizable disk. 

'It has a video on,' Wade explained, 'It has tons of pictures of us on, and little videos and stuff. Watch it sometime when I'm not around, okay?'

Peter nodded before giving the rest of his gifts. Buying for Wade wasn't exactly easy, because anything Wade wanted he could literally just buy. Yeah, Peter bought him a couple of new xbox games, but all the rest was personal. 

The first was a Swiss army knife, an engraving along the back that read, 'Last Resort.' Wade stroked over the words fondly before putting it down and moving on. Next were the games, then a pair of new gloves, and finally the first 'Deadpool and Spiderman' comic which had been sold in very few places, so as not to antagonise the anti-hero. Wade bit his lip, hiding the glossy look in his eyes and he flicked through.

The stayed on the sofa for a while, curled up with each other, before Wade mentioned getting ready and headed to the bedroom. 

Peter stares at the fully developed picture of Wade, holding it tentatively in his fingertips, before a sharp tapping on the door. 

'Hello?' He peered around, but nobody stood in the hall and wow were his spidey senses going haywire. Peter looked back into the house but Wade didn't appear, so he stepped out and stared down the hall, first left before turning right and-

'Hey there, darling.'

That felt like a fist, followed by the floor. Maybe there were footsteps, too. Peter didn't know. Everything was phasing out of existan-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling and end to this story soon. Its been a joy to write, and should people be interested I'll probably write a sequel which is full of one-shots and stuff


	18. Peter-napped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'If I only could make a deal with god, and get him to trade our places.'

It took Wade longer than he cared to admit to notice Peter was missing. Mostly because the boxes were arguing about relationships (predominantly), although that didn't help the guilt. Within the first hour he sent a couple of texts, asking where Peter was, and then about dinner arrangements. Eventually he gave up and called, but the phone rang out. 

No need to panic. 

[He's probably dead.]

He probably just went out.

{Maybe he just gave up on us?}

It was funny, almost, how the dream boxes were so much more violent. Now, they were edged with regret. Wade stepped into the corridor outside. It was almost redundant, given he was the only person who lived on that floor simply because there was only one residency, but that was just how the building was. He looked over the carpet - deep blue, which was while pleasant rather industrial. 

{Didn't Mr. Miller have a carpet like that}

[How do you even remember that?]

{Someone has to pay attention around here}

[You weren't even around - is that blood?]

Wade hesitated, kneeling to inspect several red flecks and shit yes it was. He drew himself back quickly and opened his other phone, dialing his good ol pal, Hugh Jackman.

'What do you want, bub?'

'You wouldn't happen to know the ware-a-bouts of one teenage boy? A specific one, that is, I didn't just wake up today with a fancy.'

'...What do you want?' Logan didn't exactly sound impressed, and he sighed.

'Peter Parker. You know where he might be?'

'Can't say I do. I'll say one thing though, if someone's nabbed him it's to get at you. Got any enemies? Actually, nevermind.'

'Excuse you, I'm the most popular girl in school.'

'Something tells me that's not working out so well,' A clank on the other side of the line. Wolfie was drinking, apparently, 'Get the boy back in one piece, at least. He doesn't deserve any of this.'

Wades grip tightened on the phone, ever so slightly, 'I will, mark our words.'

'Oh yeah, you might wanna check in with a couple of your old assassin buddies, too. Heard from one of Daken's lot that they're not exactly thrilled with you.'

'Cheers, _bub_ ', Wade smiled. He went to disconnect but decided, just before, 'Good luck with Daken, man.'

Wade headed off, making a mental list of places to check. If Logan was right and it was intended for him, he'd receive notice soon. Somehow, that wasn't a comfort.   
...

Peter, for the most part, was not enjoying his situation. Had he been handcuffed to the chair, he might have been able to break his hand in order to escape. As it was, with each wrist tied to an individual post above his head, there was little hope of that. 

'You know, I'm really not into BDSM. I mean I'll give being handcuffed I'll try once or twice, but this? Not my thing,' Peter mustered all the bravado he could, directing his speech at the figure in the shadows. 

'And yet sword wielding murderers are,' Slick and level, that voice. Calm and full of scorn, 'You need to get your priorities straight, mister.'

Peter tried to pull himself free yet again, hissing slightly at the rope-burn developing, 'I'm not overly good at doing anything straight.'

A white lie given he was bisexual. The fact was he had really wanted to make that joke, just because he could practically hear the eye-roll response.

'You sound just like your little boy toy. You trust him to show up, of course. Trust him with your life. Tell me now, do you trust him with theirs?'

Peter bit his bottom lip when there was a gesture towards the door, instead opting for silence. He felt like he was in the middle of a tell-tale game and every dialog option was the wrong one. His refusal to speak was loud enough. 

'The youngest guard out there is 16. Younger than you. New recruit, that one. Bad families breed bad kids,' The man stepped forward, finally. He was slim and bald, a large X scarred onto his head. There was a feral look in his eyes, reminiscent of Wades. Peter tried not to think about that. 

...

Wade managed to find a couple of different leads, all pointing towards the same direction. He really had to thank the phone company for believing him and switching on the GPS and no he wasn't weird or anything it was already built into the phone okay, besides the phone was bought in his name so whatever. It led to some bunker many miles off. If he sped, it should only take an hour plus leaving the city time. Good. They might even be able to get to their dinner reservation in time, given it was just past midday. 

[Maybe bringing the whole arsenal isn't a good idea?]

{eh. Yolo}

[We're doomed.]  
...

It was several hours later when the first gun shot was heard. Mr Dickbag Kidnapper had left minuets before, and Peter was wriggling against the restraints. From what little he could hear, he identified a crescendo of shouting before the whole damn building fell silent. Peter wasn't sure if he was strung up their for minuets or hours. 

He waited, tense, fighting more eagerly for freedom. He'd been smacked around a little, sure, but he was kicking himself for his own failing strength. All motivation to fight was seeping out, he was so damn tiered. Blood was smattered along his head and any attempt at writhing aggravated the cuts and friction burns on his wrists. 

Someone was outside, now, creating large bangs which ruptured the silence. Doors, Peter assumed, being either slammed shut or kicked open. Given they were growing louder, he assumed the latter. 

His own door was quickly busted open, light flooding in and holy shit was that bright.

Peter craned his neck up, squinting, 'Wade?'

'No, its Ryan Reynolds,' hands held his face, slapping him lightly. It was only then that he realised how much his head was tipping sideways, 'Come on, I'm getting you out of here. I hit the guys with gas, but it won't last that long.'

He felt one arm drop to his side, then the other, legs failing him. Peter had only been their for a couple of hours, but in such a hot atmosphere with cuts and restraints, it felt like ages. 

Wade - or Deadpool even, costume on and holsters glinting promisingly - tried supporting him at first before bringing him out to the corridor and placing him on the floor.

'I can scope out while you recover a bit,' Wade was kneeling in front of him, touching his shoulder lightly. Something was put in his hands, 'I guess you've never shot someone. Just... Take it anyway. It works miracles as a people repellent, probably why I don't have many friends but hey. I don't shoot all of them.'

Deadpool hopped up, clicking the safety off a new pistol and heading out. 

[Think he'll be okay on his own?]

{He's a big boy, in all senses. He'll be fine.}

Wade bit his lip, cringing at the mask that ended up in his mouth and debating internally why the hell he chose such a tight costume. 

[At least it shows off our ass]

One of the guards stirred when he went past and he turned to them suspiciously. They were relatively young, which wad rather common in this area. Poor kids with luck worse than their income. If Wade had to kill, he'd be quick about it. 

'Hey there kiddo,' he leant down, one hand on his sidearm, 'Who's the big boss daddy around here?'

'X,' the girl wheezed, clutching her chest. The gas he used wasn't lethal, but wasn't exactly pleasant either, 'Everyone.. We know him - .. As X...'

'Okay, I believe you,' He shrugged before pressing the barrel of the gun into her head, 'Who sent him?'

There was a pained whine as the girl flinched away slightly, 'Some chick. Black hair, face makeup.. Like some black and white Harley Quinn, I swear!'

Wade drew back, hissing, 'Fucking Domino. Thanks, kid. Ask around for Deadpool sometime, I'll page you something for the help.' 

Protection, most likely. After all, if anyone found out... Good thing he shot out the security cameras.

After that rather helpful conversation, he stalked around a couple of the larger passages before returning to where he'd left Peter.

Shame Agent X felt the need to intervene.

'Put your gun down, Wilson,' X had his own weapon, some shitty like AK, hovering over Peter.

'Have you been waiting this whole time for me to come back? Or did you literally just get here? Because this smells like plot convenience to me...'

Peter went to speak but a swift kick to the back made him stop and he just sat, shaking his head.

Wade lowered his body slowly, putting his weapon down in the process. He didn't actually feel any of the bullet that hit him, just the floor beneath him and the resonating sound of Peter shouting. 

Lying on the floor, he felt his skin crawl back to place, felt his body readjusting.

'You really, really shouldn't have done that.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took longer than expected. Mostly because of GCSEs, of which I only have 3 exams left... Also, a slight poetry addiction meant I was writing that instead. Ah well.


	19. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'This one's a contradictory because of how happy it sounds, but the lyrics are so down.' - Twenty One Pilots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Not Today is this Wades theme tune tbh

'Don't look, Peter,' Wade hauled himself up, coated in cuts and blood, led bullets slowely being dispelled from his body. He took one step forward and felt another round hit, tearing him apart. Nothing hurt more than his head and skin on a good day, he'd become so desensitized to pain... This was nothing. The bullets kept going till the gun ran dry. 

'Guess they make you a little tougher in the north?' X hesitated before holding the gun to Peter once more. They both new the clip was empty.

'Please, stop looking,' Wade was trying hard not to make eye contact with him at this point, 'You don't want to see this.'

Peter turned his head, managing to make barely a murmur when X was yanked over him. Somehow, hearing knuckle on bone then skull on concrete wasn't much better.

Wade had taken X into his grasp and hauled him up, tossing him to the floor where he couldn't threaten anyone. He hesitated, staring at the splayed body. That would have been the right time for him to draw back, to turn around and walk away. Morally, it was correct. 

[Kick his ass baby we got yo flower]

Wade gripped the bald head and held it for a second, keeping eye contact before slamming the agents nose into the concrete. Again. And again. His throat hurt from shouts he thought were silent and blood was splayed across him. Bone caved in and lay in broken shards across the floor. He dropped the head and recoiled.

'They make us rather tough down south, too,' X hissed. A healing factor, either slow or defective but existent. It seemed a small price to pay to keep his looks.

'Oh really?' Wade surveyed his choices, weighing up the katanas strapped behind him before yanking out two pipes from the walls, approaching the figure who was slowly climbing off the floor, 'So I guess this shouldn't be a problem.'

X managed to pull himself up, deflecting one hit with the pipes and striking out, smacking Wade straight in the chest. He struck again, pushing him backward before pausing to force his nose into place.

'Man,' Wade was bouncing on the balls of his feet, 'your face is more messed up than mine right now. I have to applaud you really, its quite a challenge.'

X moved forward again but Wade counter acted, smacking his hands away with the pipes. He aimed and slammed both into X, one through the mouth and the other the chest, exerting enough force to pin him to the wall. X still tried to grab him, but Wade swiftly 'relocated' his hands with the katanas, 'Alright Abbadon, I'll say this once. Come after us one more time and I will bury you so far under-'

'Wade please,' Peter was still huddled, knees drawn up, elbows obscuring his face. The damn kid hadn't even moved, 'Don't.'

Wade nodded, lowering his fists. Another time, maybe. Now, with Peter right there... There were many things that could sit on his conscience, but that was not one of them. He took a second to chill, regroup his ever-wandering thoughts and to just breathe. X was twitching and his legs writhed, but there was no threat anymore.

Peter began moving his hands away, unfolding, before taking one look at the blood on the floor and put his arm up again and over his face.

'Hey there jumpy,' Wade smiled lightly, approaching Peter. He'd stripped his costume down so the arms hung from his waist, baring scarred and uneven chest, 'I'm gonna pick you up, okay? Then we can go home. Are you doing okay? I mean you're bleeding' - and its all my fault - 'so I guess you got dinged up too...'

Peter nodded and shifted, getting in an easier position for Wade to pick him up from. He did so, carrying Peter bridal-style, keeping his body angled to hide X. They both knew he was done, dead or not.

Wade was taking special care in navigation, ungracefully avoiding the sprawled bodies that were collapsed along the sides of each path.

'Did you kill the guards, too?'

'Only a couple, if I had to. Most of them are just knocked out. I just went up to them and asked if my hand smelt like chloroform to them, works like a charm.'

That was enough, for now. The whole killing people regularly was a pressing issue, but Peter didn't have the mental or physical strength to challenge it. Honestly he really wanted to just curl up in a ball somewhere.

He hadn't seen Wade die before. Yeah sure he didn't stay dead, but it was a seriously... Haunting picture. Him lying their face down, covered in his own blood... That was something he never wanted to see again, no matter what.

'You're not gonna die.'

'Couldn't even if I wanted to.

'Do you want to?'

Wade said nothing, and they traversed in silence. They got through the gaping hole Wade had made as his own entrance, blown out of the huge steel doors of the bunker.

'What will happen to X?'

'On of his lackies will let him down, and if he's smart he'll get the hell outta dodge.'

Peter nodded, climbing into the back seat of Wades car so that he could lie down. Not the most comfortable, sure, but not the worst either. 

'How'd you manage to get peter-napped in the first place? After all, you have those super spider senses, right?' Wade adjusted the rear view mirror {its for checking out the booty} so Peter was visible, keeping a cautious eye on him.

'Kinda like alarm bells, yeah. But they go off if there's a wasp within a mile of me, so its hard to distinguish between serious or not.'

'Well damn right they do, those things are killers,' Wade turned on the radio, got a whiff of the music, then turned it straight back off again, 'The writer hates me. Like officially hates me. No music? Really?'

Peter rolled his eyes, watching the world go past with moderate interest. His eyes had barely adjusted to the light, and even with the roof as protection, the low sunset still had it out for him. The burns and cuts along his body were sore, and he nursed what he could reach. Wade took one look in his direction before pulling over, driving half into the grass as he did.

'Come here, lemme take a look,' Wade got out and climbed in the back, holding his boyfriends hands to examine the damaged. With a slight sigh stuck his finger through one of the man holes his costume was littered with and tore away, using the fabric to bandage Peter up.

'Sorry this is the best I can do,' Wade kept his eyes trained down, hands working quickly over each sore, 'We'll need to get you properly washed and wrapped, but this'll do for now. Stop you aggravating them. Although I can hardly preach, I'm a scab - scar - picker. Maybe when we get back I'll put on a sexy maid outfit and all.'

'You can still feel them?' Peter looked over the red strapped across him, smiling lightly. It was a poor thank you.

'Yup. Its not so bad though. Getting limbs cut off is the worst. The cancer sucks, but I'm kinda so used to everything that I have a high pain threshold. Can I stop now? This is more expedition than necessary.'

[Lazy way to tell a story, writer. Sheesh.]

Peter nodded and Wade left, getting into the drivers seat once more and taking them home.

'What you did to... To X... That was messed up. But its good you stopped, at least.'

'I wouldn't have stopped. If you hadn't said anything, I'd have taken his head next.'

Peter hesitated before, 'I need you to, though. Stop killing. Like you do, or did, I mean. I can't deal with it. Please, Wade.'

[He can't deal with it? What about us?]

'Yeah. I'll try.'

There were a couple of tense seconds before a barely audible, 'I can't watch you die again, either.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes another chapter! I really want to say thanks, there is definitely an end in sight. This story is way longer than I ever planned, and also had way more hits and kudos and I'm just so happy about it, so thank you guys so much <3


	20. Night Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Take all my money, take all my touch, take all the stars that hang above me. Be mine. Take all my tears, cover my eyes, take what you need to make you love me. Be mine' - The Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what my writing is like if I try to be more descriptive, so I hope you enjoy. The later chapters have been slower and better written than the first ones, I think, and I hope you guys like this one.

With a swift and for the most part uneventful car journey, they returned to their shared apartment, keeping while in close proximity to each other, a fair foots distance lingered between them. They'd reached a rather awkward stage in their current affairs, not necessarily broken but strained. Peter clearly was having an internal moral debate about Wade's little psychotic breakdown, while Wade himself was being a broody little piss baby. 

[Fucking rude.] 

They did however settle down together, in the sense they both choose the lounge to take a breather. Despite the fact it was only early afternoon, neither of them were feeling very energised or in fact overly optimistic. The prospect of that restaurant reservation later was becoming less and less appealing. 

'Look, Wade,' Peter was curled on the sofa, his knees drawn defensively up to his chest while his hands stroked through his hair, 'Can we just eat in? And maybe... Talk about what happened out there? I mean, I heard you shouting, and beating hi-. Yeah.'

'Consider it tables for discussion later,' Wade's voice was thin, taut even. As someone who was naturally cocky, the change had become rather... unnerving, 'I'll go out and get food, if you want. I'm hardly that incompetent, I think I can do it. And without slaughter, god bless. Itchy trigger fingers and all that, nothing but impulse.'

'Come on, you know I don't-'

'Nah it's fine. Even the big-bad-wolferine thinks I'm some psycho killing machine, and he damn well should know better,' Wade was being abrupt, irritatingly so. A certain sharpness had settled into his movements. It wasn't that he was being defensive, more... Offended? 'I mean, I haven't exactly proven myself worthy, if it means anything. I get it.'

Peter watched him go, then, straight backed and teeth clenched so tight his jaw was visibal. Wade barely stopped to bother getting changed, more throwing on old clothes before departing hastily. Peter didn't know what to do, so figured avoiding a fight was the better course of action. He slipped into the bedroom where the medpack was stored, peeling away the strips of deadpool-spandex to reveal course and sore patches. He set about cleaning first, washing his wounds carefully before applying dressing. Last time, when Wade had bandaged him up after a fight (scuffle, really) with Doc Oc, he'd applied cream to the worse areas. Whatever it had been, Peter wasn't feeling overly experimental and elected against trying. While his control wasn't so good and he managed to pull the fabric too tight on several occasions, he did eventually patch himself up.

 _I may earn that med scout patch yet,_ , Peter admired his handiwork, the rope burns across his wrist and cuts further up having been dealt with. Bruises were beginning to form across his brow, and rather than trying to see if they had any medical equipment to tackle that, he rummaged through Wade's drawer and nicked a small stick of concealer. Wade wasn't overly interested in cross dressing or make-up generally, although he had no issues with the occasional eye-liner, but always kept concealer for public appearance. While most of the scarring was too deep, a basic coat could at least tackle the worst of the discoloured areas. It helped Wade's confidence, as well, which mattered more than anything. Not to mention right now it was covering Peter's injuries. Amazing, the many uses of concealer. 

Peter was taking experimental pictures with the camera when Wade returned, wearing one of Peter's beanies and a doge shirt, baring two plastic bags in one hand and a slip of paper in the other.

'I got om-nom-noms,' Wade waved the bags triumphantly, putting them on the coffee table in front of Peter. He looked briefly at the bandaged wrists, a flicker of regret passing over his face, before laying the paper down too and settling on the sofa, pulling Peter into is proximity as he did, 'Oh wait hang on cutlery. That would be a shitty continuity error, and I hate continuity errors, so brb.'

As Wade was off collecting knives, forks and glasses, Peter poked the bags before eyeing up the slip, 'Why do you have a deed?'

'The restaurant we booked at said they didn't deliver,' Wade passed over the cutlery set to Peter as he sat back down, pulling out several containers, 'So I was like, if I pay you a shit ton of money will you? And the dude was all up in my face, so I turned around and went I have a credit card which is possibly impossible to max out, let me buy the place. So I bought it, and said that now I was the owner they had to let me take the food home. Ta-da!'

'You bought a restaurant so it would give you take out,' Peter was torn between disbelief and yet knowing that was exactly the kind of crazy-amazing shit Wade pulled on a regular occasion, and it was damn well believable for him. 

Wade nodded, revealing what he'd bought. They were all fancy dishes with probably French names, which had been compacted to fit in foil carriers. There was a glass of fancy ass champaign shoved hap-hazardously in one corner of the bag, either done in a rush or by Deadpool himself. Neither would be surprising. One way or another, the drink was poured into Wade's Coca Cola glasses he'd got free from McDonalds after a junk food binge. What a guy. 

'Hey, babe?' Peter's voice was more questioning than he intended, and his fingers tapped a foil edge uneasily. The dish was meaty, sweetened with honey. It helped counterbalance the bitter topic sitting on his tongue, 'It's not that I think you're crazy, or uncontrollable. I just... God, you have no idea who scared I get, you know?'

There was a seconds pause before Wade nodded, 'The same anxiety I get when you're out web-swinging, no doubt. Especially since I know the kinda guys that have a hit on you - hell, some of them are people I've worked with. Ain't that a bitch?'

Peter nodded, 'Like that, yeah. I mean, you're kinda touchy about the whole subject and of course that's understandable' - he'd managed to stop Wade's interjection before it happened. Silencing the merc with the mouth, something not even decapitation had managed- 'but we gotta figure something out. I mean, how much longer do you think we can keep this up for?'

'You mean the hero and anti-hero/not quite villain dynamic?' Wade stopped, pressing his tongue against a bite in his lip he made seconds before it vanished again, 'Or the relationship? Cause you're being kinda vague... and...'

Tension was settling in, now, 'I don't know. I love you, Wade, don't ever mistake that fact.'

'I love you too, you ridiculous little nerd,' Wade put down the tub of food he'd been eating from and shuffled slightly closer, letting Peter's head rest on his shoulder, 'I don't know what to do, either. Love doesn't exactly come with a manual, you know. And killing doesn't get much easier, either. I don't know how to balance it.'

Dinner was completely abandoned at that point, where Peter adjusted so that he was holding Wade rather than vis-versa, using the level to extend the sofa and lie with Wade in his arms. It was probably less comfortable for the latter, whose feet dangled over the arm rest, but he didn't complain.

{Huh, gaaaaay}

[Hella gay}

'Happy anniversary, twinkle-toes,' Wade huffed affectionately, barely rolling his eyes when the flash of Peter's camera went off. 

'Yeah, happy anniversary.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone has noticed but I've been very slowly adapting older chapters. Maybe when I'm done I'll actually like my own writing. (Not likely, I am a pessimist in many regards)


	21. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier. I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist, like it doesn't exist. I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, ' Chandelier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very nearly ended up pasting the entire story into the chapter summary and notes, so that's where I am with my life right now...

Wade didn't bother informing Peter he was job hunting. It seemed rather superfluous given a collage drop out with zilch legitimate experience and a criminal record was never going to find any stable opportunities {Thanks, Obama}. Not that he was in any dire need of money, just that the road to redemption led in that direction. At least, in the suburban fields of not-so-glorious battle they were still a dynamic duo. S.H.E.I.L.D predominately used him as canon-fodder, given his indestructible everything, but occasionally they fell to each others side. That was, on the few shifts they had together. Most the time, stretching from evening to ungodly night-hours when Wade prowled the streets, Peter worked up in Oscorp. It was a pretty sweet gig, all in all, despite the awkward timings. Wade couldn't express how proud he was of Pete.

It was a week after their anniversary when they worked together again, when Vulture broadcasted a quite deliberate call of attack, gauding Spiderman on national television. Wade had been the first to see the message, calling his boyfriend over with a small joke about getting a bat-signal. From their apartment, they were too far from any commotion to hear the sirens, but black smoke was rising against the skyline. 

'Autobots, lets roll out,' Wade jumped up, grabbing through their shared wardrobe, pulling out a costume and oops no not his. He chucked it at Peter before leaning up to find his, 'You know, spandex is better than latex. And it's not just me who thinks that, either. I mean, just look at Captain America's ass. No ass looks that good unless spandex is involved, even if it's just over that stretch.'

Deadpool clicked his swords into the belt across his back and threw Spiderman the web dispensers. Honestly, he'd felt a little cheated to discover that they were artificial instead of some freaky genetic enhancement, but then though about spider biology and thorax's compared to human anatomy before deciding sex would be way too complicated if webbing was included...

'You with me?' Peter's raised eyebrow caused a crinkle to appear in his mask, distorting the bug-eyed effect. Wade shrugged nonchalantly, tossing open their apartment window and heaving himself out, dropping down the neighbours fire escape before climbing up once more, reaching the roof. Peter had beaten him almost effortlessly, eyes trained on where the Vulture was staging his attack.

'Hard-core parkour,' Wade grinned, pulling back a few steps before jumping the distance between the two buildings. Spiderman kicked off the ledge and free-fell for a few seconds before latching a web onto the nearest ledge and yanking himself along. Fucking show-off, he was. Deadpool had to admit, he loved watching Peter in action. There was a certain gracefulness that game with the movements, a fluidity and familiarity that Wade could only compare to using his guns. [Wasn't that a shitty analogy.]

{Never claimed to be a poet}

He made it across in leaps and bounds, before noting a news helicopter and shooting up a grapple gun, hitching a ride the rest of the distance. In the brief time it took to reach the top a reporter's head appeared through the open door, shouting down at him, 'Are you like red spiderman?'

'No, I'm the Green Lantern,' Deadpool quipped, feeling slightly uneasy with the sensation of flying. And wait a second, wasn't the whole point of a villain called Vulture the fact that he could fly?

Shit.

Wade looked up, catching a brief flash of green in between the oscillating blades of the copter before Vulture dipped behind the metal and out of sight momentarily. Wade had been pulling himself up the rope until this point, where he hesitated to consider his actions. Jumping away may work in the fact that it could lure their unfriendly winged elf away from the innocent reporters [they're journalists, they're probably guilty of something], or have the opposite effect in that it left them vulnerable. 

He risked a glance down, scrutinising the scene. Peter must have been inside one of the buildings, no doubt helping out the citizens of their not-so-dear metropolis like the good little Samaritan he was. He weighed the options before heaving himself up, gripping onto the roof of the machine, feet hooked on the inside seats.

'Sorry for sticking my crotch in your camera! Be revealed, normally when I'm saying that I'm not wearing pants,' He shouted over the wind, pulling out a pistol from the back of his belt and shit where the hell had vulture gone? Deadpool turned a millisecond before the bulk of man crashed into him, tipping the whole helicopter as he scrabbled to keep balance. The two people by his feet screamed, the driver trying to pull them away. Wade felt his grip dislodge, not that it would even matter given Vulture was reaching for the blades and aw fuck no don't break the damn thing.

Wade made a silent apology to Peter before pushing back with his hands, beginning the long-short fall down. Vulture pulled away as well, chasing him on his decent, mocking. 

[What a grade A asshole] 

'Look at you, pretending to be the hero.'

Wade smiled. Head first, he was diving now, his body streamline. The faster he fell, the quicker the splat. Dying again wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to spend his Saturday, but hey. Life's a bitch, death's worse, 'I never said I was a hero, more a cocky good looking vagabond with a gun fetish. See?'

He shot both of Vulture's wings, leaving him exposed for a non-lethal - but still painful - shot to the thigh. And another, for good measure. Wade tilted his head, noting that the pavement was suddenly a lot closer than before. {How much time will it take to get together this time?}

[Well in regards to prior times, and calculating the velocity to predict the likely damage-]

'Fuck maths,' Deadpool twisted, and hang on a second was someone shouting his name? It was probably Peter. Don't look, Pete, don't-

...

Peter didn't prevent enough of Wade's deaths, but did at least lessen the damage by padding Wade's head with webbing. He was probably going to complain about the state of his mask when he woke up, the asshole. Seeing him dead was still like a punch to the gut. Or maybe that was because Vulture had just flying-tackled him. Hard to tell. The floor was rough against his back, a large rip having formed in his costume from the force of him sliding, and shattered glass that had fallen like snow during the explosion they'd seen prior was now dragged across his exposed skin. Peter winced, pulling himself up. Wade still hadn't stirred. Apparently, this was a fight he had to do alone. Great. 

'So a year ago you're all fight and now what?' He muttered under his breath, keeping half and eye on the skies as he crossed over to the corpse, body low and arms to the ready. There was blood against the blue of his uniform, which wasn't his, 'Nice job shooting the enemy, jackass,'

Peter knelt down and pulled back Deadpool's mask, checking for breath. Next he searched for false, fingers to neck then ear to chest. 

'I am rather good at my job,' Vulture hadn't landed, but was rather hovering, the huge metallic - and broken, if those bullet holes were any indication - wings barely beating to keep him afloat. There was blood oozing from his legs and apendex, 'Good job with those hostages, by the way. Really, it's a lot easier to only deal with one of you at a time...'

A bullet struck yet again, this one perfectly striking his shoulder, severing the joint. The arm hung limp as Wade sat up, mockingly blowing the barrel of his gun. Police had finally become a functional and useful unit, surrounding the trio with their weapons poised.

'Shame there wasn't one of us,' Wade grinned, scratching his nose with his middle finger. Childish, perhaps, but amusing none the less. 

Vulture, aka Adrian Toomes, was apprehended with a promise to return the stolen technology to Oscorp, where they would dispose of it properly. Peter felt for Harry in that moment, picturing the stock-market lectures and corruption he would have to deal with as a result. They managed to hitch a ride half-way in the back of a police van, the driver chatting happily to them as they went. And yeah okay so maybe they took a selfie as well, but everyone has a moment of unprofessional-ism. Besides, they owed him. 

It was when they were stripping down that Wade really noticed Peter's wounds. Maybe it was to do with the concussion so bad even the boxes were silenced, but damn was he scratched up. They would have to patch each other up in a minuet. Peter hadn't even bothered pulling the spiderman costume off completely, just sat in the bath with the shower running, dressed up until the hips. Wade sat on the lip of the bath in his Spiderman underwear, pressing bits of skull back into place.

'So, why the swan dive?' Peter asked, wincing as the water forced glass out of where it had been lodged. 

Wade finished and stuck his hand under the shower head, washing away blood, 'it was me or the CNN guys. I mean, if it was Fox News I'd have let them bite the dust, but.. I wanted to help, and he was just gonna keep coming after them otherwise.'

Peter smiled, still tense with pain but less anxious than before. Parker held Wade's neck, pulling him down for a slow kiss.

'Oh yeah,' Wade nuzzled closer, 'And I'm removing you from active duty for a couple of days, and I'll be telling the good ol cap if he sees you to send you home i'msorrypleasedon'thatemeyou'reinjured okay that's all'.

'I'm not that -ach,' Peter felt the soreness in his ribs again. Yeah no, he was going to be off work as well. Which meant leaving Deadpool in charge of the cities welfare, and he really wasn't sure the world was ready for that... He'd have to wait and find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot what I was going to write here but hopefully I'll remember and edit this out.


	22. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'All this pain, take this life and make it yours again. All this hate, take this heart and let it love again'

Deadpools new found presence on the street in light of Spidermans sick-days was greeted with much skepticism. Many other heroes found him to be volatile and therefore the less he was around the better, often a personal or moral issue. In contrast while the fact that the two little heroes were also bunk-buddies wasn't public, The Avengers treated them like an old married couple, and there had been plenty fan sites for them which increased the more Deadpool was sited. Shipping, Wade had decided when checking his internet after a fight, was a beautiful thing. The majority of 'spideypool' sites were regularly checked by Deadpool himself, and he was proud to own a blog entitled, 'Spidermans-Spandexed-ass', which was literally just zoomed in pictures of Peters butt and consisted of at least 100 photos already. Everyone needs a hobby.

As a hero in these trying times, Wade hadn't been up against many of the big villains. Unless he was specifically called on for help [Oh yeah, Captain America's in our contacts], he prefered to prowl the shittest areas. Poor districts, ghettos, gang-territory where the police shot first and the pavements were smeared with blood. He'd intervene in any form of gun fight or mugging, and held himself personally accountable should any harm fall on anyone. Not an easy task, sure, but worth it. It was not that the other big-wigs were apathetic, in fact he'd had several run-ins with Luke Cage on exactly the same mission, but that crime was such a regular occurrence that it was never reported. 

By the time Peter was back in swinging action, having healed internally thanks to his freaky spider-genes, Deadpool had become something of an icon to the impoverished. Mainstream media always focused on his slaughtering, on the one time he decapitated a member of the Hand - which SHIELD had authorised, quietly - while omitting the fact he saved Daredevils life in the process. 

'You've certainly left an impression,' Spiderman smiled, staring up at the side of an apartment building. Red paint was streaked across, forming lines which would be senseless were it not for the black outline on top, the familiar black of mask staring across, letters he couldn't understand scrawled below, 'Can you read that?'

Wade nodded, 'It says Justice. A bit over dramatic, I prefer to leave that sort of stuff to Judge Dredd. Y'know, _I am the law._ '

'Stallone or Urban?' Peter asked, kicking off one wall to scale the other, hanging from a web. He always become twitchy when in costume, possibly because of the recognisable features. Red and blue made for poor camouflage, even against the graffiti. Better than exposing his face, but still. Latex didn't stop bullets. 

'Urban, obviously. Hey, have you ever tried kissing like that? It must be a nightmare. Tell you what, we like never use our powers for kinky purposes. I mean sure your flexibility and my increased stamina helps, but come on,' Wades face was inches away from Peters, different at that angle, still hidden behind costume, 'But I have super healing so I mean you could go rough af. And don't even get me started on the different things you could do with the web-'

'Please shut up,' Peter pulled his mask over his nose, exposing an irritant curve to his lips. It was incredibly close to a smile.

Wade mimicked the action, biting his lip awkwardly, 'Or what?'

Peter moved his head forward, hands still clasped onto the web, but pushing forward with his head instead, kissing Wade deeply. He happily reciprocated, humming slightly, hands on Peters face.

'The more you do that the more I'll talk, you know that?'

'The more I'll have to stop you. What a tragedy that would be.'

Staying in the alley was not a practical act, but pure selfish desire which neither of them had indulged in. Wade broke fully away first, smiling as he did, 'I gotta work, babe.'

'It doesn't count if you don't get payed.'

'I get cash from The Avengers and the Fantastic Four if I bring prisoners in, so ha. Not as much as I earned killing, but hey. The occasional kidnapping should cover for that,' Deadpool shrugged, hopping over the base of a poll and walking into the main street, 'I'm gonna make stew tonight, if you can get jiggy with that?'

'Whatever works,' Peter shrugged, climbing up his web, 'See you tonight.'

It was the newspapers who outed them, then. Apparently, passionate upside-down make out sessions in alleyways {it's iconic} between two conspicuous heroes was actually the sort of thing people photo and sell on. Peter didn't understand the fashion of peoples love lives, even when it was his own. He had been resting on the dining chair, competitively balancing a spoon on the end of his nose for longer than Wade, when he glanced over and nearly dropped the blasted thing in suprise. 

_'Deadpool and Spiderman, super close bros getting cosy._ Fucking hell, Wade, are they kidding?'

Wade adjusted his head, crossing his eyes intently to stare at the spoon as if it had personally offended him, 'I know, its not that hard to say homosexual. Or gay'

'Queer,' Peter suggested. Each exhale rocked the metal before him, 'And yknow kissing instead of getting close. Like you can see clearly in the picture.'

Wade laughed, making the spoon wobble uncertainly, 'Two super close boys invent a new his greeting, inspired by the Europeans.'

The spoon dropped off Wades face and he cursed loudly, flailing in the most awkward attempt to catch ever. It failed, predictably. Peter smiled and removed his own, 'I told you, my balance is the best. And besides,its hard enough then getting their head around gays, let alone us.'

'A bi and a pan. We just need an asexual and we'll have the whole squad.' Wade huffed, picking up the spoon and putting it in the dish washer, 'Okay, you win. My pride is wounded, and you pick the movie.'

'And twitter.'

Wade rolled his eyes, passing his phone, 'Just read it out before you tweet, k?'

'I really don't understand why they verified your account, or how you got so many followers, like there's almost as many as mine,' Peter hesitated before tapping on the screen. He showed the display, a draft tweet reading, 'The Green Lantern wasn't that bad a film.'

'Destroying my street credit, huh?' Wade sniffed, mock offense dripping off each word before smugness settled in and he grinned loosely, 'So, allmighty spoon king, what delightful film do you have in mind?'

'The most romantic film of all,' Peter replied, leaping up and practically skipping to the DVDs, 'Terminator.'

'You fucking nerd.'

'You love it really.'

'Hells yeah.'

...  
Halfway through the film Peters phone went off. Wade turned to the figure in his arms, several bad jokes prepared only to see he'd fallen asleep.

He connected the call, talking skeptically into the reciver, 'Parker and Wilson residence, for all you completely un-nefarious needs...'

'Wade?'

'Harry? Wow this is suddenly kinda awkward,' [Small talk works right?] {right}, 'You been hitting the gym lately, your voice sounds pretty metro-hetero-sexual.'

'No I- whatever. I wanted to talk to Peter, if he's around?'

'Napping, right honey?' Wade put the phone in front of his boyfriends face, a small snore punctuating his point, 'See? If you need to pass on a message then I can do that.'

Harry hesitated, the only hit of audio was the faint crackle of life in the backdrop, 'Yeah, if that works. Tell him the computer says we're - . We figured out a cure. Maybe. The simulation has accepted hus algorithm. He'll understand. And Wade?'

'Can do, and yup?'

'I'm gonna be honest, I wasn't expecting you two to work out, but... Good job. I mean, after everything...'

'Yeah, thanks,' Wade disconnected, dropping the phone to his cushions. Peter didn't stir.

It took him a while to sleep himself. Nightmares still reared their ugly heads, and it had been decided that the old fashioned method where he shot himself and lay dead was not an appropriate nap. Which sucked for him, really, but given how upset Peter had been after finding him in that alley [unreasonably so] Wade had promised not to. He was not a conventional pinky-promise person, but for Pete, he'd try. 

Wade dreamt of pipes and needles. Dulled beyond sense were voices, outsiders inside his head. Voices he'd heard before, somewhere. From his position, he could see Logan, wires weaving in and out of his chest. Harvesters, their 'group' had nicknamed Logan's doctors. The people who deconstructed his body and shared the DNA out. Honestly, they were practically family. Whether Wade was submerged or not he couldn't tell, but his lungs were screaming, hammering against his ribcage to the palpations of his heart, and there was a weightlessness in his bones.

Strapped to a bed beside his own confine was Peter. Pale beyond compare, gag between teeth and skin physically rippling. He looked half dead. Wade thrashed, voiceless and howling. Nothing worked. Maybe he wasn't moving at all, maybe...

Wade woke up in a cold sweat on the sofa. Peter snuggled against his chest, unaware of anything other than his own dreams, and Wade took comfort in that.

'I've gottcha, babe. I'm gonna keep you safe, I promise.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm finally out of my GCSEs, and most likely the next chapter will be the last. Its kinda sad, the one person I actually started writing this for never actually bothered reading it.


	23. Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I posted the entire chapter in the chapter summery. Good on me.

Aunt May was sitting, staring affectionately at her guests. She had been kept in the dark about practically everything hero related, naturally, but had known about Wade's skin long before he appeared before her. The first comment she'd made when the couple first appeared at her doorstep, Wade hanging his scarred head while Peter looked so damn dejected, was 'You're late.' 

Now, the two of them were voluntarily cleaning up after dinner while she evaluated several news on her laptop. Not her typical habit, sure, but Peter had been announced something of a medical hero after he successfully cured Harry Osborne's genetic disorder. There was to be a party at Oscorp, apparently. Tabloids always divulged into the guest lists, which normally would be grating if it weren't for the fact that both Peter and Wade were guests of honour. It was almost comical, how highly they were being praised since in that current moment they were blowing washing up liquid at each other, and she sighed, 'When are you two going to get married?'

Something smashed. She'd pay for that later.   
...  
Wolverine hated New York. Furthermore, he hated taking a hiatus from his... 'family troubles'. Still, he owed Wilson a debut which he fully intended on repaying. After all, had Wade not intervened, they would all be back up at the X-program. Besides, their good old merc-with-a-mouth was going clean. Logan could respect that, envy it even.

'Give the damn boy a chance.'

'You really think he can do it?'

Wolverine sniffed, lighting a cigar, ' I think he'd have a better chance without you sending over assassins and their ilk. What do you say, bub?'

'And the X-force?'

'We've already got Psyche and Fantom so far.'

'One chance,' Domino smiled, eyes trained on the panorama outside, 'For what it counts, I think I'm starting to believe in the little shit.'  
...

Harry's party was not as horrendous as Peter had anticipated. They were in the higher levels of the tower, where board meeting rooms had been transformed into pretty rad rave-areas. Officially, the party had ended an hour ago, after speeches of honour had been made and a long-lasting promise that their research would be transferred into other medical pursuits. Now, there were roughly 50 people left excluding the dream duo, who had spent the night mostly with Harry and Gwen. Good old Tony Stark himself was living up to the less fond media-reputations in that he'd drunk too much and holy shit he was approaching Peter abort-abortabo-

'Hey. I know your face. And voice. Why do I know your face?' Tony was pointing an accusing finger in his direction, scrutinising him.

'We met like-' Peter paused, rubbed his head, continued, 'A year ago. I ran into you... Here, in fact. Well not here here, but... here, here?'

Tony nodded at him as if he understood, sipping from the bottle of whatever, 'But there's somethin else. I- ah. I got it. They don't call me genius for nothing...'

At that he started moving away, humming 'itsy-bitsy spider' as he went. God did Peter hate that song. 

Wade appeared from the bustle of part-goers. It was the wrong side of midnight, and he clearly was not enjoying himself. Probably due to the fact his superhero-steroids meant he couldn't get drunk. If Peter was more coherent, he'd probably take pity on the guy. As it was, that would have to wait until the morning. Peter walked backwards until there was a wall and slumped down, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his head on Wade's shoulder when he copied the position. Wade held his hand, rubbing circles with his thumb. He could almost be smiling with content. Almost. 

'They called you hero,' Peter's voice was as hushed as he could manage, nose digging into Wade's cheekbone. The look on Wade's face was somewhere between affectionate and long-suffering, 'Harry did, when talking about you. And how awesome is that? My boyfriends a _hero_ '

The flourish on the end was almost too much to handle, especially since Peter didn't know about the hostage video - nor the money he'd had to transfer to Bob as reparations - which was no doubt what Harry had been referring to. Not exactly surprising that ordeal had been omitted, given there was no mention of Spiderman's blood transfer either. Good ol Osborne, 'Come on, if anyone's a hero, its you. I just do the dirty work.'

'For SHEILD' Peter hissed. They'd seen Coulson, tucked in the corner and simply observing. It wasn't that they had any complaints against him exactly, but neither of them agreed with his employer. Deadpool very nearly became a 'Rising Tide' member, simply out of spite. It was a short lived rebellion, 'You're my hero, you know that?'

Wade rolled his eyes, lying his legs flat and pulling Peter down, letting the mop of brown fall into his lap as Peter sprawled across the floor, 'Yeah I know, you hopeless romant- no. No more drinking for you.'

He took the bottle of WKD away quickly, downing the rest. He found the taste somewhat abhorrent, being more of a Bulmers kinda guy, but hey. Whatever worked. Peter glared at him with a sudden flare of betrayal, turning on his side to stare angrily at the floor beyond Wade's feet. It lasted for a few seconds, his resolve breaking when Wade played soothingly with Peter's hair. The left side had remained practically shaved since the day Peter had done Wade's hair in what felt like many chapters ago, but the right was becoming long and wild.

Harry walked - no, staggered - up to them, grinning, shirt half-untucked and sunglasses resting on his head, 'You two okay?'

'Super!' Peter flipped onto his back and threw his hands up, smacking Wade in the face as he did without even noticing, 'Thanks for the invite. We love you, man. You're like... My bestie. Besides this jerk here.'

Peter patted Wade's face before turning craning his head around to beam at Harry, 'You, him and Gwen. The golden trilogy.'

Harry grinned in response, going to kneel for a hug only to topple slightly. He barely caught himself before his head smacked into the drinks table, 'I'm gonna go to sleep. This is my house, right? Whatever.'

Deadpool winced as the teenager retreated, torn between intervening and pulling out his phone. Before he could take either course of action a sloppy kiss was placed on his chin and he looked down. Peter wasn't going to remember anything next morning, that was certain, 'Hey Wadiepoo?'

'Thanks, Sparkles,' Wade hissed under his breath before laughing lightly, 'Yes, Peter-Pie?'

'When are we gonna get married?'

'Depends,' He put his head back against the wall, avoiding eye contact. He could feel an expected (and inebriated) gaze that had settled on him, and Wade couldn't but help think back to his own family, 'You want to?'

'Uh-huh. We should get married right now.'

Wade huffed, 'Oh should we? Go out on our day jobs, come home to a white picket fence... Good old apple pie lifestyle. You'd want that?'

{Who wouldn't?}

'Couple of kids, a dog...?' Peter was fighting to get up, balancing on his hand, supported by and elbow that dug into Wade's thigh.

'What would you call the kids?'

'Nathaniel, if the older one's a boy.'

'Oh god no,' Wade laughed kissing his lightly. In the backdrop, the overall conversations had become much more hushed, and many guests were either ordering taxi's or settling on the floor, 'Okay, you're officially not allowed to name them, got it?'

'Okay then, bossy. What about you?'

'I'll call them Sam and Dean, if they're two brothers.'

'Oh, will you?'

Wade blinked before realising what he'd said and the severity of the implications, 'Yeah. They'd have the best Show and Tell days ever, having us as parents. You could swing in through the widow, and I could act as I real life crash dummy to teach them how not to get hit by cars. It'd be great.'

Peter was drifting off now, but gestured for him to continue talking none the less.

'You could sew their costumes on halloween, since you did such a good job with your Spiderman costume. I used to get blind Al to make mine, you know that? Until I learnt how to sew on my own, that is. I mean, I was a merc before I was a freak, then I was both...'

'And now you're neither,' Peter had passed out, barely managing to finish his sentence before he'd blacked out. Wade put a hand on Peter's chest, feeling his pulse.

'Neither, huh? I like the sound of that.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, the end of a story which is meant to be a short one-shot! Seriously, thank you guys so much for your continued support, for the couple of you who wrote on my wall, for all of your comments and kudos and I just... I love writing, and I can't believe how positively my story was received! I love you guys so much, you don't even know <3  
> And really, feel free to message me on Tumblr, my URL is fallenluzifer  
> Thank you, I hope you enjoyed it!


	24. Post Credit Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sticking with the MARVEL tradition...

'Hey Wade?' Peter was lying on their sofa, pointing his camera towards his boyfriend, trying to record slyly. Wade had been perched on one of the bar stools, typing erratically on his phone, expression pinched; Bad news, apparently, 'You wanna know what I just got?'

Wade looked up, a startled expression; clearly he had been anticipating more silence. It took 0.2 of a second for him to regain his asshole state, 'A dragon dildo?'

'No- jesus, man, really? Tickets, Wade. I bought tickets. Two of them, infact.'

Despite little change to his facial expression, Wade's domineer was peaked with interest. Peter allowed himself to smile lightly, as he lifted the tablet in his hands up to expose the screen. There was a second of quiet between them before a small, incoherent noise came out of Wade's mouth, 'You fucking with me?'

'Nope. We're gonna go see Taylor Swift!'

Wade clearly managed to process what was happening and threw his hands into the air, not quite a squeal coming out his lips but something akin to one. He grinned, grabbing Peter and spinning him around with so much he dropped his phone. 

The video was posted to youtube, and received around 500,000 hits. Wade wasn't ashamed to admit he nearly cried.

It was the same day when Wade drove out of town, a shit ton of junk stuffed in the boot. He pulled over in a relatively deserted area and threw everything onto a sandy-patch of ground. Tipping petrol over the red fabric, he lit a match and watched as the old costumes and black-books were burnt, a disposable phone giving the smoke a strange smell. By the time anyone found the charred remains, he was back at his apartment with Peter. A note had been left over the top, reading 'R.I.P DEADPOOL.'

Wolverine smiled, stubbed out a cigarette and drove on.


End file.
